DTIC ADA350993: JPRS Report, Soviet Union. Political Affairs, Fictionalized Report on First Anniversary of Chernobyl Accident - Part 2.

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JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 FEBRUARY 1988

^ FOREIGN

BROADCAST

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6y SERVICE

JPRS Report —

Soviet Union

Political Affairs

Fictionalized Report on First Anniversary of Chernobyl Accident — Part 2

REPRODUCED BY

U.S. DEPARTMENT OF COMMERCE
NATIONAL TECHNICAL
INFORMATION SERVICE
SPRINGFIELD, VA 22161

Soviet Union

Political Affairs

Fictionalized Report on First Anniversary of Chernobyl Accident — Part 2

jpRS-uPA-88-005 CONTENTS i February 1988

View of Kiev . 1

“The Danger of an Explosion Has Been Eliminated” . 3

Flight Over the Reactor . 6

Doctor Hammer, Doctor Gale . - . 9

“How People are Tested...” . 14

The Last Warning . 18

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

1

FICTIONALIZED REPORT ON FIRST
ANNIVERSARY OF CHERNOBYL ACCIDENT -
Part 2

18000032 Moscow YUNOST in Russian No 7, 1987
pp 33-53

[“Magazine version” of Yuriy Shcherbak’s “Chernobyl:
A Documentary Story”; Part 2; for Part 1 of this report
see JPRS-UPA-87-029 of 15 September 1987]

View of Kiev

[Text] The hot month of May 1986 put its own new
imprint on Kiev: the city that was clean even without
this was washed and licked clean to an incomprehensible
degree in those days. Uninterruptedly, for entire days on
end, sprinkler trucks travelled through the city, wiggling
their watery whiskers and washing the radioactive dust
from the asphalt. Wet rags lay everywhere at the doors to
houses, institutions, stores and even churches, and the
endless wiping of footwear became a de rigeur indication
of good tone. The city’s streets remained full of people as
before, but if you looked closely you would notice that
the number of children in Kiev had decreased greatly —
during the first days of May the city took to moving its
children out in any way possible — organized and not
organized, by train, airplane, bus and Zhiguli. Large
columns of automobiles with belongings on the roofs
moved to the west, south and east. Parents were driving,
taking their children and grandfathers and grandmothers
out, going to stay with relatives and acquaintances; many
were going wherever the road led, just to get as far away
as possible from the radiation.

During those days reports emphasized that Kiev and
Kiev Oblast were living a normal life. Yes, people did
not flinch before misfortune, people struggled with the
accident and its consequences, and the external appear¬
ance of the city changed very little. The internal, the
most tenacious essence of life, was preserved, for enter¬
prises, the means of transportation, stores, institutes and
institutions operated normally, communications func¬
tioned (with brief interruptions, it is true), and the
newspaper continued to be published.

...During those days it seemed that never before had
there been so many beautiful girls in the city, that never
before in Kiev’s history had spring been so enchanting. I
will never forget how, returning from Chernobyl, I came
into Kiev just as dusk was settling over the city. Every¬
thing was so familiar — the silhouette of the uncompleted
skyscraper hotel was darkening above the Levoberez-
haya metro station. Across the way, at the taxi stand, the
roofs of automobiles were glistening like a school of
variegated fish flattening themselves to sandy bottoms
for the night. The metro rushed headlong toward the
bridge in order to plunge into the thickness of the Kiev
hills and and to rumble to the Kreshchatik. Under the
metro bridge the Dnepr was bursting from high water, its
expanse disappearing into the darkness was Gogolian in
immensity and pathos. Lovers were kissing on the

embankment, and tired people were returning to their
homes — and all of these simple pictures of life in this city
of many millions, which usually did not touch us,
suddenly shook me to the depths of my soul as if I had
gathered insight and understanding into some very
important change that had occurred in my consciusness
during the last several days. This peaceful evening
seemed to me to be piercingly beautiful, as if 1 were
parting forever with springtime, with the city and with
life itself, strangers became dear to me and the everyday
life of Kiev appeared to me in a new light.

I felt this in the alarming light of the accident, which
occurred quite close — just two hours drive by car —
during the days when the feeling of danger was height¬
ened to the limit. Later this passed.

The Dnepr, the hills, the houses and the people — all of
the commonplace seemed at that time to me unusual, as
if it had come off the screen of a science-fiction movie.
Especially often during those days I remembered Stanley
Kramer’s film, “On the Beach,” which told the story of
Austrailia as it waited, doomed, for the arrival of the
radiation cloud after the third and final atomic war in
the history of mankind. The strange and unrealistic
aspect of the film seemed to be that during this critical
situation people continued to live as before, without
changing their habits, maintaining their outward calm
and existing as if by inertia. It turned out that this was
true to life. For Kiev’s population the old habits
remained.

However, the patriarchal, ancient city with the gold
cupolas of its cathedrals preserving the memory of the
ages was transformed inscrutably during something like
half a month, becoming lastingly connected with the
image of the new atomic age. From a ringing metaphor
repeated by us in vain before the accident, this phrase
(“atomic age”) was transformed into harsh reality — the
words “dosimetry control,” “radiation,” “decontamina¬
tion,” all of these “milliroentgens,” “roentgen equiva¬
lents,” “rads” and such has firmly entered the vocabu¬
lary of Kiev’s population, and the figure of a man in a
gown with a respirator on his face and a Geiger counter
in his hands being glimpsed fleetingly everywhere, has
become customary, just like the crowd of automobiles at
the entrance points to Kiev — the dosimetric control of
automobiles has been instituted at all KP [Check points].

Milk and milk products have disappeared from Kiev
markets and counters, and it is forbidden to sell lettuce,
sorrel and spinach. Other gifts of the Ukrainian soil —
radishes and strawberries, early potatoes and onions —
were subject to dosimetric control. “God willing, this
does not have radiation,” chanted the peasants on Bes-
sarabka, selling strawberries for fabulously low prices.
But few people bought.

And as always happens, the childred began to copy the
incomprehensible life of adults. On Rusanovka I saw
children running through the bushes with sticks in their

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

hands, as if measuring the area with a dosimeter. They
were playing radiation. And one iittle girl wrapped in a
sheet walked around at the entrance to her house,
making “frightening” eyes and saying in a sepulchral
voice: “Ooo-ooo, I am radiation, everyone hide from me.
I am evil and terrible...”

“In Kiev there is a business-like and working atmo¬
sphere,” assured the newspapers, radio and television,
and this was the truth. Ancient Kiev maintained its face
and dignity before itself, before our country and before
the entire world — this was emphasized repeatedly with
astonishment and respect by guests to the capital of the
Ukraine.

This is so.

But during those days another Kiev also existed, hidden
from outside glances, one that did not attract the atten¬
tion of newspapers and television, and not mentioning it
now would mean hiding a part of the truth and distorting
the complicated manner of events. It was a city with
excited crowds at the ticket counters of the railroad
stations and Aeroflot. There were some days when even
those with tickets had difficulty in reaching the train
station — the police had to intervene. Eight to ten people
travelled in compartments meant for four; speculators
asked up to 100 rubles for tickets to Moscow that
normally sold for 1 5 rubles. At that time I was touched
nearly to tears, even though I am not a veiy emotional
person, by Yevgeniy Lvovich lyerusalimskiy, candidate
of medical sciences and senior scientific worker of the
Kiev Institute of Problems in Oncology, an individual
whom we met just 3 days before all of this happened. He
came to me and offered me a ticket to Moscow for my
daughter. And although the ticket was not needed, dur¬
ing those days that kind of offer was the sign of a most
faithful friendship.. .During those days, like during the
war, a number of customary notions changed instanta¬
neously. Eternal concepts such as faithfulness, decency
and duty acquired a special significance and value. That
May in many Kiev apartments telephone calls were
received from different cities of the Soviet Union.
Friends, relatives and acquaintances called, inviting peo¬
ple to visit. But there were others who did not call
although, it would seem, according to all pre-Chernobyl
rules of friendship they should have done so.

For a long time — an entire month — I waited for a
telephone call from Moscow from a certain individual
whom I had considered a true friend, and who often had
stayed with me in the past. I never did receive that
call.. .But then quite unexpectedly the Armenian writer
Gevorg Mikhaylovich Agadzhanyan, who lived in Azer¬
baijan, and whom I had met in Kiev by accident just
once in my life, called me from Baku and suggested that
I send my daughter to him for the summer...

We had to become acquainted with many strange and
unexpected things during those days. What do you think,
why did lines form at the department store in early May?

To buy Finnish suits, West German Salamander shoes or
Yugoslavian leather jackets? No. To buy suitcases and
bags.

During those days Kiev apartments were literally abuzz
with conversations and rumors, arguments and discus¬
sions, conjecture and facts. Decisions were made and
immediately rescinded, phantastic plans were presented,
and anecdotes and phantastic tales were told. Persistenty
tales circulated in the city about black “Volgas,” driving
up to the train platforms, about long lines for airplane
tickets at counters located in some of the more promi¬
nent of the capital’s buildings...

Yes, there was no panic in Kiev. But there was enormous
alarm concerning the health of both children and adults
and it was worthwhile to heed this anxiety as well.

Everyone remembers the photographs of the destroyed
reactor that were spread all over our newspapers. Even
people who understood nothing about atomic energy
were shocked by the unnatural appearance of the reactor.
To specialists it was clear that something unprecedented
in scale had occurred. The first emissions travelled
northwest and west. On 30 April the wind changed
direction and began to blow towards Kiev. Radioactive
particles were carried toward the city with its multi¬
million population. I remember that day distinctly — I
was at the Ukrainian Ministry of Health. I remember
that the worry and tension among doctors grew and that
in ministry offices and hallways there was talk about
taking extreme preventative measures. Proposals were
made to turn to the population with a special call
concerning precautionary measures. But until 6 May no
one heeded these proposals.

Many, very many now blame the doctors. Why didn’t
they warn us? Why didn’t they step in sooner? I do not
want to shield my colleagues — there are many sins on
their consciences too. But for the sake of fairness I would
like to emphasize that it is not the doctors who are in
charge of the channels of mass information. And it is not
the doctors who make the most important decisions.
And decisions were essential. Already in late April
serious thought should have been given to the expedi¬
ency of carrying out festive Mayday ceremonies in Kiev
and regions neighboring on the zone, especially with the
participation in them of children. I am sure that the love
of the Soviet people for the May 1 holiday and their
patriotic feelings would in no way have been diminished
as a result of the cancellation of the festivities. I was told
about the instance in which one of the first postwar May
1 celebrations was cancelled in Belorussia...due to rain.
And what happened? Similarly, in 1986 the people would
have understood correctly the necessity for emergency
measures and for the temporary absence of children
from the streets. The people would have been grateful,
because the photographs of the damaged reactor and of
smiling children with flowers standing in festive columns
does not bear comparison. Wasn’t it possible during
those holidays to ask the people who filled the parks.

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

3

beaches and nearby forests, who went to their dachas, to
abstain temporarily from these joys of spring? The
people would have understood.

Some might object that radiation levels in Kiev did not
exceed acceptable levels so why, as they say, guard the
garden? But there are also acceptable levels of alarm and
anxiety which during those days exceeded all conceiv¬
able levels.

We should not have, and it was incorrect of us, to ignore
the fear borne of radiation and to combat it either with
silence or with bravely optimistic declarations. After all,
in the course of dozens of years newspapers, radio,
television and popular scientific journals themselves
gave rise to, taught us, this fear by describing the horrors
of atomic warfare and all its somatic (physical) and
genetic consequences. And although the scale of the
Chernobyl accident and an atomic explosion simply
cannot be compared, nevertheless the fear of radiation
was quite strong. It would have been possible to decrease
it, to soften the psychological consequences of the acci¬
dent, with a quick announcement of preventative mea¬
sures — but not on May 6 but earlier. As the proverb says,
“God helps those who help themselves.”

During those days I wrote, and can repeat today with
even greater harshness and certainty, that one of the
most severe lessons of the first month (and subsequent
months as well) of the “Chernobyl era” was taught to our
means of mass information, which were not able to
restructure their work in the spirit of the decisions of the
27th party congress. The impetuous course of events
sharply curtailed the time needed for bestirring them¬
selves, for various types of coordination and agreements.
I recalled several difficult days in our lives, from 26 April
to 6 May, when the shortage of domestic information
was evident while foreign radio stations had free scope
on our airways, literally tormenting those individuals
who had rushed to their radios. Let’s not soften things
for ourselves with lies — there were many people who
did this because nature abhors a vacuum, including an
informational vaccuum. This brought about not only
ideological but also medical damage as well. Now it is
already difficult to estimate how many people were
seriously stressed that day as a result of the ignorance
and fear for the lives of their children and close ones and
for their health.

There appeared in Kiev both “augurs of disaster,” dis¬
seminating all types of false rumors that encouraged
panic, as well as the hale and hearty “optimists” who
repeated only one thing over and over again: “Every¬
thing is fine, excellent canopy.” Within the city in the
May heat it was possible to chance upon strange-looking
figures wrapped up head to foot in old clothes, in
overcoats, in hats or scarves covering almost half their
faces, in gloves and socks.. .These were the “augurs of
disaster,” mobilizing every means of individual protec¬
tion. I do not judge them, but after the Zone and all its
problems all Kievan fears seemed simply ridiculous.

After the first days of silence when information was
extremely sparse, numerous articles appeared in news¬
papers, and television began to broadcast the appear¬
ances of specialists. But...

A number of publications and television broadcasts were
characterized by a falsely-cheerful, hat waving atmo¬
sphere, as if the discussion was not about a great human
tragedy, not about one of the somber events of the 20th
century, but about a school fire drill or competition
among firefighters using dummies...

The habit of working according to old schemes inherited
from the time of general indifference had its effect; the
desire to present only lulling, peaceful and joyful infor¬
mation had its effect; the fear of increasing glasnost as
regards the most ticklish and uncomfortable questions,
one of which was Chernobyl, also had its effect. Of
course it would be unfair not to note the innovations that
appeared during those days in the work of the organs of
mass information. Let us at least look at the interesting
experience of Ukrainian television — beginning in May
the editors and technicians of the popular information
program, “Aktualnaya kamera” [Topical Camera], peo¬
ple who were not only talented but brave as well (you will
agree that it is not simple to film in the Zone, under fire
by radiation), acquainted the Ukraine’s television view¬
ers with the events surrounding the AES [Atomic electric
power plant].

But all of this was later.

Between 3 May and 6 May dark rumors began to
circulate in Kiev. It was said that any time now there
would be an explosion at the station because the temper¬
ature in the reactor has increased to the outer limits and
the flaming core of the reactor, having melted through
the concrete casing, would come into contact with the
water that has accumulated under the fourth block, and
then.. .Some assured us (“augurs of catastrophe”) that
there would be a hydrogen explosion (physicists denied
this without equivocation), others (the “optimists”) —
that this was just steam. In one variant as well as the
other there was little cheer. It was said that plans were
being readied for an evacuation of Kiev, and many more
different things, were also said...

“The Danger of an Explosion Has Been
Eliminated""

The most surprising thing was that this time the rumors
had a weighty basis.

From press reports:

^"Academician Ye. Velikov reported:

“ The reactor is damaged. Its core is a burning hot active
zone; it is as if it is ‘hanging’ there. The reactor is covered
from above with a layer of sand, lead, boron and clay,
and this is an additional load on the structure. Below, in

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

a special reservoir, there may be water... How will the
burning hot reactor crystal behave? Will we be able to
hold it or will it fall into the earth? No one in the world
has ever been in such a difficult predicament — we must
assess the situation very precisely without making a
single error...

“ The continuing development of events demonstrated
that the direction taken to deal with the damaged reactor
was the correct one.” (PRAVDA, 13 May 1986).

From an article by V. F. Arapov, lieutenant general,
member of the Military Council and director of the
Political Administration of the Krasnoznarnennyy Kiev
Military Okrug:

“...The representative of the government commission
made the following assignment to the commander of the
exemplary mechanized company, Captain Petr Pavlo¬
vich Zborovskiy:

“ ‘A critical situation has developed at the damaged
reactor. It is possible that there is water in a special
reservoir underneath it. If the concrete foundation does
not hold something irreparable may happen. You must
find the right solution in a short period of time and
organize the pumping out of the water.’

“...The armored personnel carrier delivered Captain
Zborovskiy and two volunteers — Junior Sergeant P.
Avdeey and Lance-Corporal Yu. Korshunov — to the
site where they were to penetrate into the building
leading to the reservoir. Radiation measurement equip¬
ment showed that it would be safe to remain at the
concrete wall for no more than 20 minutes. The dare¬
devils began their work, relieving each other. Finally an
opening was made and Captain Zborovskiy stepped up
to meet the unknown. Soon he proposed to the govern¬
ment commission a dependable solution for pumping
the water, and it was confirmed.” (Magazine RADUGA,
No 10, 1986).

Nikolay Mikhaylovich Akimov, 30 years old, captain:

“It turned out that we would have to work in the Zone
with a very high level of radiation. That is why together
with Captain Zborovskiy (also Lieutentant Zlobin was
with him) we made a decision to first ask for volunteers.
When we announced that we needed eight volunteers the
entire staff that was in service, everyone, took a step
forward. We selected eight people. Among them were
senior sergeants Nanav and Oleynik.

“We worked during the night, by the light of lanterns.
We worked in protective clothing. It was not completely
comfortable, it is true, but we had no other choice. You
have seen this clothing — it is of a green color, and it is
called OZK — general armed forces protective clothing.
The situation that had developed at the station told us
that we had to act quickly and decisively. The staff

understood the assignment as it should have and at the
station there was no need for superfluous orders or
additions, there was only work.

“We worked in the zone for just 24 minutes. During this
time we laid about 1.5 kilometers of hoses, installed a
pumping station and began to pump the water. Every¬
thing seemed to be going well, the water was being
pumped out. But as they say, problems come in threes.

“Soon after we had put down the hoses and had begun
pumping out the water, in the night darkness someone’s
truck mounted on caterpillar tracks crushed our hose.
They were taking some kinds of measurements and in
the darkness and did not notice the hoses. This is the
type of lack of coordination that occurred. All of this
happened in the zone with a high radiation level. There
was nothing we could do. We got dressed and went there
again. We went with a different group of volunteers from
our company. The water was flowing under pressure and
the hoses were not able to withstand the pressure and
started to leak. And the water was radioactive. This
spillage of water on the path of our work posed an
additional danger. We had to immediately eliminate the
spillage and clamp the hoses in places where the water
was gushing out. All in all pressure was applied to many
shadows on the hoses.

“What do I want to say about the young men? Different
things happen in our lives. As they say, there is no such
thing as a job without dangers. When we got there we
looked.. .No, at first there was no fear — we went in,
everything was fine. Even birds were flying around. And
then, when radiation readings were made — we each had
our own individual dosimeter — when we understood
that our bodies were being bombarded with roentgens,
then the soldiers developed quite a different attitude. I
will not hide it — when the dosimeters began their
readings fear appeared. Nevertheless, not a single soldier
at the station showed any sign of weakness, everyone
fulfilled his task with bravery and with a high level of
professional skill. There were no cowards among us.

“Assignments were made outside the Zone. When we
entered the Zone there was no time to give orders. First
of all, it was uncomfortable — we were wearing respira¬
tors, and secondly you cannot do much ordering —
everything must be done quickly. The young men did not
waver, I did not notice any of that. Every one of them
knew that he had taken in a dose of radiation, but each
one fulfilled his task.

“Moreover, technology is technology. The pumping sta¬
tion was in the Zone of the very high radiation level; it
operated within closed premises and it was practically
impossible to be in there. But as a result of the shortage
of air and the gases in the air the machine kept dying. For
this reason from time to time, or about every 25-30
minutes, we entered the Zone, ventilated the premises,
restarted the machine and again repeated the process.

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

5

“This is the way it went for 24 hours. We did this work
on the night of 6-7 May, Then the pumping station was
replaced.”

“You understood that this was one of the most impor¬
tant operations during the entire Chernobyl epic?”

“Yes, we understood this. Especially the officers. We
understood that if water entered the boiling mass there
would be an explosion or at the very least an evapora¬
tion. ..We all understood. These were totally comprehen¬
sible actions, we knew what we were up against.”

“You do not regret having chosen the profession of
fireman?”

“No. I myself am from Rostov Oblast, village of Orlovs¬
kiy. This is the native region of Budennyy. The Salskiye
steppes. I graduated from the Kharkov Firefighting-
Technical Institute of MBD [Ministry of Internal
Affairs] and was an A-student. I entered the army and
have been serving in Kiev for 6 years already. So you can
consider me a Kievan. I do not regret my profession, I
made a conscious choice.”

“During those days all of Kiev lived with terrible
rumors. Did you realize that you had done something
quite outstanding?”

“You know, we were relieved that we carried out our
jobs. When we were able to report, ‘The danger of an
explosion has been eliminated.’ The thought did not
cross our minds that later we would be interviewed. We
were thinking about something else: ‘This soldier has had
this much radiation. He has to wait. First these soldiers
will go. They have been exposed to less.’

“We protected each other.

“And then it turned out that we were something like
heros. I think that everyone who worked in Chernobyl
did what he had to do. Everyone without exception. If it
were not us, someone else would have been in our place.
We simply went there as specialists.”

Besik Davydovich Nanava, 19 years old, senior sergeant:
“I was born in Georgia, in the city of Tskhakaya, and
grew up there. My father is an engineer, my mother a
bookkeeper. I have been serving for 1.5 years.

“How did it happen? We were sitting in the club watch¬
ing a movie. There was an order: ‘Firefighting company
on the alert!’ Immediately we all gathered and the
company commander, Captain Akimov, says, ‘Fellows,
get ready and prepare yourselves for work.’ He gave us
instructions on safety measures.

“When I heard all this I remembered my house, every¬
thing. But you know, I felt that I had to, that it was
essential for me to do this. Since they had called us that
meant we were needed.

“On 5 May we arrived in Chernobyl, we arrived in the
morning. We stood around there all day. On the 6th
Major General A. F. Suyatinov arrived and the following
order was given: Our special operations group must
already be at its station. The company was fully drawn
up and Captain Akimov said, ‘Volunteers — one step
forward,’ Everyone took a firm step forward. Well, and
the most healthy and physically fit were selected. I
participated in sports and judo wrestling. We readied the
trucks and checked the hoses and on 6 May at 9 p.m. we
were at the station. There were four officers there—
Captain Zborovskiy, Lieutenant Zlobin, Captain Aki¬
mov, Major Kotin and Major General Suyatinov. And
there were eight of us — sergeants and soldiers.

“When we arrived the major general said, ‘Shall we begin
immediately or smoke a cigarette?’ Well, we discussed it
and decided, ‘Let’s begin immediately.’ Without getting
out of our trucks we immediately set off for the work site.
We drove in. We are setting up the pump and beginning
to pull out the hoses. At 2.30 a.m. we finished our work,
returned, underwent decontamination, washed and laid
down to rest in the barracks. At 5 a.m. we received an
order to go there again. It was said that some kind of
reconnaissance vehicle mounted on caterpillar treads
had travelled over some hoses and cut them in half And
the contaminated water had begun to flow.. .We got up,
changed clothes, arrived at the place of the accident,
changed the hoses and went back. All of this took about
25 minutes. Three hours passed, and there was a heli¬
copter on duty constantly there, and from the helicopter
there was a report that a fountain was spurting through a
hole in one of the hoses and must be fixed immediately.
Again we were awakened. We went there immediately.
We clamped it and all. We were immediately replaced
and sent to the hospital for inspection.

“Now I feel good. I did not write to my parents about
this. But you know what happened? I was given a
vacation and went home, and my father saw the military
voucher which had my radiation dose recorded on it. He
asks me, ‘Son, what is this from, what is it?’ Of course I
did not describe it in too much detail, but he under¬
stands these things and he guessed immediately. He says,
‘Tell me how it was.’ Well, I tried to mitigate it. I did not
want to describe the harsh reality, the way it was. But
they found everything out.”

...The night of 6-7 May 1986 will always be a part of
history as one of the most significant victories over the
damanged reactor. I do not want to indulge in saccharine
symbolism or be carried away by solemn comparisons.
We have already been carried away, enough. But the
symbolism suggests itself— this occurred on the eve of
the Day of Victory. And now for me these two dates have
become firmly tied together. No matter how long I live,
on “short May nights” I will always remember May 1945,
a devastated and burnt but triumphant Kiev — “Stude-
bakers” in the streets, anti-aircraft batteries in Shev¬
chenko Park being readied for a grandiose salute, tears in
the eyes of the adults; and "next to it — May 1986 —

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

6

armored troop carriers speeding to the Zone, and the
words of one officer who came to see us in the hospital,
“Lads, congratulations on your victory! There will be no
explosion!”

In the collective that carried out this responsible assign¬
ment of the government commission I had the opportu¬
nity to spend some time with veterans of the Great
Fatherland War. The meeting was organized by Stanis¬
lav Antonovich Shalatskiy, a handsome person, an expe¬
rienced journalist, a colonel in the Soviet Army and at
the same time in the Polish Forces. In late 1944 he was
the editor of a newspaper for the First Tank Division of
the Pantserni Polish Forces — it was in this division that
the heroes of the very popular television movie. Tour
Members of a Tank Crew and a Dog,’ served.

Attending this meeting was Hero of the Soviet Union,
ace pilot. Colonel Georgiy Gordeyevich Golubev, who
during the war was the second pilot for the legendary
Pokryshkin, and the reknowned intelligence officer who
saved ancient Crackow from destruction by Hitler —
Yevgeniy Stepanovich Bereznyak, who is known to the
entire country as “Major Vikhr.”

Colonel Golubev very vividly and truthfully told about
the difficult work of the fighter pilot, about the specific
work involved and not about the “heroic exploits” in
general — about the physical overload that ace pilots
suffered, about various technical stratagems utilized by
pilots during the war. If you do not shoot down the
enemy, then he will shoot you down. And Bereznyak
talked about the work of intelligence officers in the
enemy camp, when an individual is under constant stress
sensing the oppressive feeling of danger. Under such
conditions it is the boldest, the calmest and the most
resourceful who survive.

I looked at the young 18-19 year old short-haired lads
with the red epaulettes on their shoulders and I saw how
attentively they listened to the stories of the veterans. I
thought to myself: In about 40 years these lads, hoary
with age, will tell about the hot days of Chernobyl in the
same way, and in the same way the children of the 21st
century will listen with baited breath.

But if I had told this to the soldiers they would not have
believed me, they would have laughed. Because today
they cannot imagine themselves as being old.

Flight Over the Reactor

From the first days of the accident the situation around
the damaged reactor was taken under control.

All available means — both land and air — were utilized
for this purpose.

Nikolay Andreyevich Volkozub, 54 years old, senior
inspector pilot of the VVS [Airforce] of the Kiev Military
Okrug, military sniper pilot, colonel and USSR master of
helicopter sports:

“On the morning of 27 April I was told by telephone to
come to headquarters with all individual means of
protection. That was on Sunday. A car arrived, I gath¬
ered my things quickly, arrived at headquarters and
learned about what had happened.

“I was given the order to fly to the city of Pripyat. When
I flew past the station, whether I wanted to or not, I
passed to the side of it and saw the entire picture. I was
familiar with the area, having flown here frequently. We
turned the radiation measuring instruments on on board
the helicopter and already during the approach to the
nuclear power station we noticed that the radiation
levels were increasing. I saw the ventilation stack and the
damaged fourth power unit. There was smoke and inside
we could see flames within the ruins of the reactor. The
smoke was grey.

“I arrived in Pripyat and heard the voice of the director.
Our director. Major General Nikolay Trofimovich
Antoshkin, was already there. I landed at the stadium, A
vehicle drove up to me. I asked, ‘Where is there another
landing field?’ They answered, ‘Near the flower bed, near
the gorispolkom,’ I took off and landed near the flower
bed. I arrived in Pripyat around 1600 hours. The city
had already been evacuated. Only in front of the gori¬
spolkom were there any vehicles. The city was empty.
This was very unusual.

“I went to headquarters, to Major General Antoshkin.
Just then two other MI-8 helicopters, which had already
begun dumping their cargo, arrived. They were throwing
sacks of sand and boric acid into the reactor.

“They loaded the sacks near the river terminal and
carried them directly there, to the central landing field.
From there the helicopters flew to the reactor. At first the
sacks were not attached on the outside of the helicopters
but placed right inside. When we approached the reactor
we opened the door and simply dumped the sacks.

“On the 27th our helicopter pilots dumped sacks until
nightfall. We reported to the government commission
that we had dumped — now I don’t recall so precisely — it
seems about 80 plus sacks. Commission chairman Boris
Yevdokimovich Shcherbin said that this was a scanty
amount, a drop in the ocean. Too little. Tons were
needed.

“We flew to the base and began to think: What should we
do? We brought it up for discussion with the entire staff,
both pilots and technicians. Dumping the sacks by hand
was not efficient and not without its dangers. One flight
technologist — how much could he dump out? So on the
night of 27-28 April we kept thinking about how we
could do this better. After all in principle the external

JPRS-UPA-88-005
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7

hanger on the MI-8 could carry 2.5 tons. On that night
we had the idea to hang the cargo on the external hanger.
We decided to put the sacks in the brake parachutes of
fighter aircraft — they are very strong — and suspend
them. We have a special attachment on helicopters that
enables us to unhook the cargo. You press a button and
it releases. This worked. First we worked with the MI-8’s
and then we used more powerful machines,

“Our command point was set up in the Polesye hotel in
the center of Pripyat. From there one can see the plant
like the palm of one’s hand. We could see how the
helicopters, after taking off from the field, followed their
battle route for dumping, and it was possible to direct
them. The difficulty was that we did not have a special
back-sight for releasing the external hanger, that moun¬
tain of sacks that dangled under the machine. In working
out the flight methodology we determined that the
helicopters must fly at a height of 200 meters. They could
not fly lower because of the radiation and moreover, the
ventilation stack there was 140-150 meters tall. That was
tight. We had to move toward the stack. It was the main
orientation point. I can still see it.. .It will probably
remain in my memory all my life. I even know where
every splinter was located on it — no one had seen them
yet, but I examined the stack. There were platforms on it.

“We maintained a speed of 80 kilometers. The director
followed the flights with a theodolite. A point was
selected, and when the helicopter reached that point the
command was given, ‘Drop.’ We worked it out so that
everything hit the damaged area of the reactor. Then we
set the helicopter that controlled the precision of the
target-hit higher. We took photographs and by the end of
the day we could see how precise our target ability was.

“Then we came up with another improvement — we
made it so that the parachute remained while the sacks
fell. We unhooked two ends of the parachute. Later,
when we worked with stronger helicopters and dropped
lead bars, we dropped them off with freight transport
parachutes earmarked for landing military equipment.

“After a few days we organized a field in the village of
Kopachi. This was also close to the nuclear power
station, but radiation levels were lower here.

“The fact that radiation has no taste, color or odor at
first dulled the feeling of danger. No one looked at this —
neither at the dust nor at anything else. We worked with
all our might. We had respirators, but if you looked you
would see that the soldiers who were loading the sacks
had pushed their respirators up onto their foreheads, like
glasses...

“Later, when we understood, briefings began, medicine
came into battle and punishments were meted out.

“Later, when the wind direction changed toward Kopa¬
chi and radiation levels rose sharply we changed our base
and moved to Chernobyl.

“During these flights I prepared the crews and explained
to them the methodology for releasing the cargo. Crews
from other areas began coming to help us. We had
already gained some experience and we first trained
every newly-arrived crew. We developed schemes con¬
cerning the way in which to suspend the cargo, to carry
out the flight and to drop the cargo. Everything was
covered in detail. You carry out the briefing and check
for preparedness and sit down as the second pilot, make
one more trip with them, and then they begin to make
their own flights.

“After the flights there was a sanitation treatment and
decontamination of the helicopters.

“On 7 May we stopped the filling of the reactor. No
sooner had we stopped than at one of the meetings of the
government commission scientists and specialists made
a decision — in order to indicate further measures for
avoiding accidents it was essential to learn what the
tempterature and composition of the gases inside the
reactor were. Until that time it had still been impossible
to approach the reactor on foot or by vehicle because
radiation levels were still very high. One scientist sug¬
gested that this task be carried out by helicopter. This
was academician Legasov.

“No one had ever fulfilled such an assignment. Wherein
was the difficulty of this assigment? According to its
aerodynamic qualities a helicopter can hover above the
ground either at a height of 10 meters (this is called
hovering in the safe zone) or over 500 meters. From 10
to 200 meters is the forbidden zone. What is this related
to? In general the helicopter is a safe machine, I have
been flying them since 1960. It is like a bicycle to me. Any
time an engine failed I was able to land safely. But if the
helicopter is hovering at up to 200 meters and if the
engine fails the pilot will not be able to land the vehicle
no matter how well trained he is because the propellor
will not have time to switch to a regimen of automatic
rotation, i.e. gliding. But this is only if it is hovering. If it
is flying horizontally then that’s all right. A helicopter
can switch to a regimen of automatic rotation only at a
height of 500 meters.

“That is why one of the dangers was hovering at a height
of over 10 meters. This was forbidden. This was allowed
only under certain circumstances. Secondly, there was
the escape of heat from the reactor. No one knew the
heat characteristics of the reactor. And in a zone with
increased temperatures the helicopter’s power decreases.
Well, and there was also the elevated radiation level.
And another thing — the crew cannot see what is going
on underneath it.

“Everyone understood these difficulties. But there was
no other solution. Everything proceeded according to
wartime standards. And the measurements needed to be
taken. The task consisted of lowering the active part of
the temperature-measurement equipment, the so-called
thermocouple, into the reactor.

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

8

“The VVS commander flew to us and gave us the
following order: The assignment is a very difficult one.
But it must be accomplished. How can it be done?’

“He was asking me. I said: ‘Of course it is complicated,
but we must try. Let’s practice.’ I have a great deal of
experience. I fly all three helicopters and for this reason
they probably had the idea to assign me.

“Preparations began. I immediately thought out a plan
about how to do all of this. At that time I was totally cut
off from everything around me. I concentrated only on
this flight. In addition to a second pilot and a flight
technologist, doctor of technical sciences Yevgeniy
Petrovich Ryazantsev, deputy director of the Atomic
Energy Institute imeni I. V. Kurchatov, was to accom¬
pany me. Yevgeniy Petrovich explained to me that a
thermocouple is a metal pipe on a cable. The director of
the radiation supervisor replacements, Aleksandr Stepa¬
novich Tsikalo, was also to fly with me. You remember
the people with whom you had to work under difficult
conditions.

“We had to figure out how to lower this thermocouple
into the reactor. I went to our engineers, and said: ‘Let’s
include your engineering ideas, let’s think about it.’
Although I already had ideas of my own.

“We took a cable 300 meters in length. You know, this is
not a good incentive — an accident — but if we had
worked and lived during regular times as we did then,
with such efficiency, without red tape, with everyone
trying with all his might, we would have had a different
life.. .In literally half an hour the cable was ready.

“We wound the wire from the thermocouple around the
cable. We hung the weight at the bottom of the cable. We
laid out the cable at the airport. I selected the helicopter
myself, one of the more powerful, and tested the engines.

I issued orders to the crew. It’s true there was no delight
expressed by the crew, but this was a necessity. I calcu¬
lated how much fuel to take. We did not need any excess,
and for this reason a poured out some of the surplus. I
started the helicopter up and flew to the cable. I hooked
it on and went right from there. I raised it. We had made
a circle on the ground out of the parachutes to approxi¬
mate the circumference of the reactor, 12-14 meters. I
began to imitate the flight. A weight of about 200
kilograms hung on the bottom. I come in smoothly, begin
to hover, turn off the speed and slowly approach this
circle. The guide makes corrections. I hover. He gives me
the order, ‘Hover precisely above that.’ I find an orien¬
tation point in order to hover correctly, correlate my
position, but feel intuitively that I am hovering at the
precise point. I hold back the helicopter. But he says,
‘You are hovering precisely, but the weight is swinging
like a pendulum.’ I was hovering at a height of 350
meters, but the weight was swinging.

“I hover for 5 minutes — it is swinging, I hover 10
minutes — still swinging. The swinging is not decreasing.
I am hovering and thinking: What should I do? The
practice is also sufficiently dangerous, but morally more
tranquil — there is no radiation and no high tempera¬
tures. But from the point of view of aerodynamics it was
dangerous. But you don’t think about that in flight.

“I see that nothing is happening. I prepare for landing
and place the cable on the field. I release it and land.

“Now I had another idea: What if we hang weights along
the entire length of the cable at regular intervals? It must
be stable. We strung lead bars on the cable. Our engi¬
neers did everything efficiently.

“All of this was accomplished on the night of 7 May.

“The next day I went on a practice flight with this cable.
Cable tension was excellent. As soon as I touched the
earth with its tip (I heard the order, ‘Contact!’) I moved
away and the cable stood like a pole. Here you already
need a jewel-like piloting technique. ..I made one more
approach and was convinced that it was possible. The
way we looked after this flight — you should have seen
it.. .In general, a flight with an external hanger is consid¬
ered to be one of the most difficult... Later I tried a few
more approaches.

“On the 8th the thermocouple was brought to us. It was
like a wire. The end is a sensing device. We connected
everything up and laid the cable out on the landing field
in Chernobyl.

“On 9 May Yevgeniy Petrovich Ryazantsev and Alek¬
sandr Stepanovich Tsikalo arrived. We installed equip¬
ment in the helicopter. Before the flight we ourselves, the
crew, made a protective barrier from sheets of lead — we
put them on our seats, on the floor. The only places we
could not put them was where the pedals were, where our
feet were. We covered ourselves well. We were given lead
aprons. We explained to our passengers how we would
fly, covered them with sheets as well and agreed about
cooperation. My colleague, Lyubomir Vladimirovich
Mimka, followed the flight. He was located in Pripyat in
Polesye Hotel.

“Well, everyone sat in the helicopter. We took off from
Chernobyl without any problems. We marked the end of
the cable with an orange ring to increase its visibility.

“I reached a height of 350 meters. I had to find out what
the temperature there was and what kind of power the
engines had. The helicopter hovered with stability.

“The flight director said to me, ‘To the building it is 50
meters... 40... 20...’ He prompted me as to our height and
distance. But once I was above the reactor neither I nor
the director could tell whether I had met the mark or not.

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

9

This is why another MI~26 helicopter was sent. Colonel
Chichkov was the pilot. He hovered 2-3 kilometers
behind me and saw everything. I was to hover near the
stack...

“Yevgeniy Petrovich Ryazantsev himself was looking
right into the hatch. He demonstrated through gestures
that we were above the reactor. We took temperature
readings at a height of 50 meters above the reactor, 40,
20 and in the reactor itself. Yevgeniy Petrovich saw
everything. The equipment was recording. When we had
done everything I withdrew.

“Beyond Pripyat we had marked a special place to drop
the cable into sand. The cable was radioactive.

“From the time we began to hover all of this had taken 6
minutes 20 second. Yet it seemed like an eternity.

“This was a victory.

“The next day, 10 May, we were given another order — to
determine the compostion of gases being emitted. Again
the same thing, the same kind of cable, but instead of a
thermocouple a container was attached to the end. Here
the task was simpler — instead of hovering we were to fly
by smoothly. On 12 May we had to repeat everything
with the thermocouple. Now we had experience and
some composure. We flew out again. And despite the fact
that we had some experience we were not able to hover
less than 6 minutes.

“During the approach, while steadying the cable, then
descending and taking measurements, how did I feel?
Beginning with the 27th we did not have a single
peaceful night; we slept for 2-3 hours. We flew from
dawn to nightfall. I am often asked, ‘How does radiation
act?’ I don’t know what acts or how, but I was extremely
tired, and from what? Either it was because of the
radiation, or the lack of sleep, or the physical overload,
or the moral and psychological stress. After all there was
stress — it was a great responsibility.

“After these three flights I flew again in order to take
radiation readings.

“I spent a total of 19 minutes 40 seconds above the
reactor.”

From press reports:

“With the goal of decreasing radioactive emissions
above the active zone a protective covering of sand, clay,
boron, dolomite, limestone and lead is being put down.
The upper section of the reactor has been covered with a
layer of over 4,000 tons of these protective materials.”

(From a speech by the chairman of the government
commission and Deputy Chairman of the USSR Council
of Ministers, B. Ye. Shcherbin, at a press conference for
Soviet and foreign journalists on 6 May 1986. PRAVDA,
7 May 1986).

“Professor M. Rozen (director of the Department of
Nuclear Safety of MAGATE [IAEA, International
Atomic Energy Agency] responded positively to the use
by Soviet specialists of the methodology of retaining
emissions with the aid of a shield of sand, boron, clay,
domomite and Iead...Work is continuing on the damaged
unit in order to fully neutralize the source of the emis¬
sions and to, as the physicists say, ’’bury it“ within layers
of concrete.” (PRAVDA, 10 May 1986).

“From the USSR Council of Ministers. On 10 May work
continued at the Chernobyl Atomic Power Station to
eliminate the consequences of the accident. As a result of
the measures that were taken the temperature within the
reactor has decreased. According to the opinion of
scientists and specialists, this attests for all practical
purposes to the curtailment of the process of burning of
the reactor’s graphite.”

Doctor Hammer, Doctor Gale

From press reports:

“On 15 May M. S. Gorbachev received in the Kremlin
the well-known American industrialist and social activist
A. Hammer and Doctor R. Gale. He expressed deep
gratitude for the sympathy, understanding and rapid
concrete aid given by them in connection with the
calamity that had befallen the Soviet people — the
accident at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant.. .In the
actions of A. Hammer and R. Gale, emphasized M. S.
Gorbachev, the Soviet people see an example of how
relations should be built between the two great peoples in
the presence of political wisdom and the desire to do this
on the parts of the leaderships of both countries.”
(PRAVDA, 16 May 1986).

On the morning of 23 July a white Boeing-727 with a
United States flag on the fuselage and blue and red
markings on the tail stating “NIOXV,” which means
number one in the company Occidental Petroleum Cor¬
poration, the president of which is Armand Hammer,
landed at Borispolskiy Airport in Kiev. The tireless 88
year old businessman each year “logs” hundreds of
thousands of kilometers on this airplane, which is
equipped with all the necessities — from an office to a
bathroom, while managing a complex and multiprofile
company. Occidental.

Arriving in Kiev were Armand Hammer, his wife, as well
as Doctor Robert Gale and his wife and three children.

As soon as A. Hammer and his retinue arrived, they went
to the cardiology section of Kiev Clinic Hospital Num¬
ber 14 imeni Oktyabrskaya Revolutsiya. To the very

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

10

same one where Maksim Drach worked in the therapy
unit. Putting on a white lab coat and remembering his
medical youth (after all, he was a trained physician),
Doctor Hammer made rounds in the department in
which over 200 people who had been in the danger zone
after the accident at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant
had been under observation. All of them had already
regained their health and been discharged. On that day
there were only 5 people in the department who had been
summoned by the doctors for this regular repeat check¬
up.

Doctor Hammer sympathetically showed interest in the
general well-being of each one of them. He was assisted
by Dr. Gale who, having been in Kiev earlier, had
already examined these sick people.

On that same day A. Hammer and R. Gale surveyed the
fourth reactor by helicopter. I had the opportunity to fly
with them and now in my dreams and in my waking
hours I am often haunted by the following memory — the
flight over the fourth reactor, soaring over the large,
white lifeless structure of the atomic power plant disap¬
pearing into the dusk, above the gleaming expanse of the
dead cooler pond, the meandering course of the Pripyat,
the phantasmogoric intertwining of the wires and the
bridge pier, the accumulation of auxiliary structures and
discarded equipment. As with any recollection that has
passed into the depths of time, the real forms gradually
become distorted, much loses a clear outline, but the
feeling of pain and alarm remain unchanged, the same as
they were during that summer hours of dusk. Clinging to
the portholes we, the passengers of the MI-8, looked
intensely at the magical picture that riveted our gaze —
the black nozzle of the fourth reactor, the damaged
structures and their debris at the foot.

After flying over the fourth reactor, standing in front of
movie and television cameras, Armand Hammer said:

“I just returned from Chernobyl. It had such an impact
on me that it is difficult for me to talk. I saw an entire
city of 50,000 — and not a single person. Everything was
empty. Buildings, large buildings, all empty. The laundry
is even still hanging there, they didn’t have time to take
down their laundry. I saw the work being done to save
the reactor so that there would be no more problems with
it. I would like every person to be able to visit here to see
what I have seen. Then no one would talk about nuclear
weapons. Then everyone would know that this is suicide
for the entire world and everyone would understand that
we must destroy nuclear weapons, I hope that when Mr.
Gorbachev meets with Mr. Reagan he will tell Reagan
everything and show him films on Chernobyl. Later, in
the f^uture, when Reagan comes to Russia, I would like
him to come to Kiev and Chernobyl. Let him see what I
saw. Then, I think, he will never talk about nuclear
warfare.”

Armand Hammer is an amazing person. Perhaps the
secret of his everlasting good spirits has to do with his
ability to relax in an instant. After our helicopter took off
from Kiev he immediately drifted off to sleep. Doctor
Gale solicitously covered him with a white raincoat. But
as soon as the word “Chernobyl” was said this old, wise
person was as if transformed, looking perspicaciously at
the green scenery that was unfolding below us, along
which the shadow of our helicopter crept like a spectral
hay harvester. He noticed everything, even the 1 6-story
houses in Pripyat, even the laundry on the balconies — all
that was frozen and unnatural. And on the return trip he
again fell asleep.

In the evening of the same day Armand Hammer left
Kiev for Los Angeles.

And Doctor Gale and his family remained for a few days
in order to meet with his Kievan colleagues, to relax in
our city and to become acquainted with its memorials
and museums. After all, during his first visit to Kiev on
3 June Doctor Gale was not up to this — he had to consult
a group of sick people who were under treatment in the
Kiev X-ray, Radiology and Oncology Institute [KRROI]
in the department of Professor L. P. Kindzelskiy.

I had the opportunity to accompany Doctor Gale during
his first visit to KRROI. Doctor Robert Peter Gale looks
younger than his 40 years, participates in physical activ¬
ity (every morning an hour of “jogging” — running at a
jog-trot — was mandatory), is dark complexioned,
focused and terse; his grey eyes focus attentively and
probingly on his collocuter. Despite his outward dryness
and typically-American business-like manner he is very
friendly and it is a pleasure to be with him — he answers
the numerous questions by reporters intelligently and
patiently. He is also elegant. He always wears a navy blue
blazer with gold buttons, a dark red tie and gray slacks.
And at first his bare heels looked very amusing and
touching — he wears open-backed shoes. It turns out that
this is a Los Angeles style — to go barefoot. In Gale’s
home town it is always warm.

Before going in we all — the guest and those accompa¬
nying him — changed into white coats, put on hats,
masks and scrub shoes. And suddently we began to look
a lot like each other — it was hard to tell who was from
America, who from Moscow and who from Kiev. It was
a family of doctors, united by a general interest in saving
humanity.

I saw how attentively Doctor Gale examined the sick,
how he asked questions of the victims as well as the
doctors, how he thoughtfully studied the charts with
analysis data and asked about the details of the care
rendered by Kievan doctors. He was especially interested
in cases of bone marrow transplants.

This is not surprising. After all, R. Gale is a well-known
specialist in the area of bone marrow transplants, a
professor of the California university system, a clinic

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

11

director and chairman of the International Organization
on Bone Marrow Transplants. Kiev’s Professor Yu. A.
Grinevich reminded Gale that he had been a guest in
Gale’s California clinic. At that time Gale, having lis¬
tened then to his assistants who were treating the patient,
thought carefully for some time, confidently dictated the
treatment plan and then, raising his arm, said, ‘And may
God help us.’ Gale smiles, remembering that meeting,
and his severe face suddenly becomes boyishly ardent.
And, seeing the Kiev sick whose difficult condition has
improved, he superstitiously knocks on wood with his
finger — even if it does not help, it cannot hurt.

Later to my question — what does he believe in? —
Doctor Gale seriously answers:

“In God. And in science.”

Then, during those alarming days in June, his visit to
Kiev was very short and counted minutes were devoted
to conversations with the press. In July Dr. Gale felt
much freer — on the day following A. Hammer’s depar¬
ture the American doctor, together with his wife Tamar,
their 3-year old son Elan and daughters — 7-year old
Shir and 9-year old Tal — went to the Kiev Institute of
Pediatrics, Obstetrics and Gynecology, where the guests
were greeted by the director of the institute and acade¬
mician of USSR AMN [Academy of Medical Sciences],
Ye. M. Lukyanov, who is chairman of the Ukrainian
Division of the international organization, “Physicians
of the World for Avoidance of Nuclear War.”

Here, in probably the most important place in the world,
where human life is born, where the struggle to continue
the race of man is in progress, the children of Dr. Gale
very quickly became acquainted with small patients
without feeling any types of language or ideological
barriers, exchanged gifts, together sang the song “Let
there always be sunshine,” and then little Tal played the
violin, and blue-eyed Shir regretted that there was no
piano available — she would also have shown off her
talent...

During this time Dr. Gale was participating in profes¬
sional discussions with pediatricians, obstetricians and
cardiac surgeons. In the therapy division we stood for a
long time over plastic incubators that were attached to
complex equipment — here lay tiny beings, future people
of the 21st century, who had not yet experienced any of
the nuclear fears that concern us today.

The Museum of the Great Fatherland War, the Museum
of National Architecture and Life of the UkSSR in the
village of Pirogovo, and the Museum of V. I. Lenin —
this was R. Gale’s route. They represented different
stages in our history, different boundaries in our lives...

In the Museum of V. 1. Lenin Dr. Gale was attracted to
a symbolic sculpture — a monkey sitting on Darwin’s
book “The Origin of the Species,” is examining a human
skull. The history of this sculpture is interesting. During

his second visit to Moscow Armand Hammer gave V. I.
Lenin this sculpture, which he had purchased in London.
It is said that Vladimir Ilich, in accepting the gift, said,
“Here is what can happen to humanity if it continues to
perfect and cultivate weapons of destruction. Only mon¬
keys will be left on earth.”

Such was the prophetic warning of our leader.

I have many notes on conversations with Dr. Gale, who
incidentally is keenly interested in literature and is
himself the author of a publicistic book. I tried to select
the most important from among these notes:

“Doctor Gale, what brought you to medicine? Was it an
accident or a conscious choice?”

“Initially I wanted to study high energy physics and
nuclear physics. To some degree this is an irony of fate
because subsequently I as a doctor came into contact
with the effect of nuclear energy on the body of man. But
later, already in college, I decided that I want to deal with
people more than to become involved in theoretical
physics.”

“Did this decision have to do with the special character¬
istics of your personality?”

“I made the decision consciously. In our society the
profession of doctor is one of the most respected. I
wanted to become a doctor.”

“How old were you when you made this decision?”

“I started college at the age of 16.”

“Was medicine a traditional profession for your fami¬
ly?”

“No. There were no doctors in my family. My father was
a businessman.”

“Are you happy with the selection of medicine as your
profession?”

“Many people ask me, ‘Now that you have achieved
international recognition what do you intend to change
in your life?’ I always answer that I was completely
satisfied with my life before becoming famous and I
don’t intent to change anything!”

“Doctor Gale, I know many oncologists and hematolo¬
gists and I know that this is a very difficult profession
psychologically. After all the doctor always sees death
and misfortune. How do you deal with this?”

“In part you are correct. Doctor Shcherbak. Psycholog¬
ically this is a difficult profession. But on the other hand
this is what attracts me. After all, it is a challenge.
Oncologists and hematologists must often decide very
difficult questions and be in difficult situations, partly

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

12

because our knowledge in this area is limited. I think
because of this, in this area of oncology there is a great
opportunity for medical creativity. In college we often
debated: What is better? To write music or to play
music? If you are involved in cardiology, you are ‘playing
music.’ But here in oncology you are ‘writing music.’
Here everything is new and unknown.

“Moreover, I have been trained as a scientific worker as
well as as a physician. It is in oncology and hematology
that it is very easy to coordinate the results of laboratory
research with hospital work, with the real treatment of
the sick individual. After all it is no accident that the first
diseases to be recognized in terms of their genetic nature
were blood diseases — problems in hemoglobin synthe¬
sis, for example. And you know, that the majority of
Nobel prizes in the area of medicine have in recent years
been awarded for research on these types of questions.”

“In connection with what you have said, whom do you
see yourself to be more — a doctor or a scientist? Or are
you for synthesis?”

“To be a good doctor, to heal people — this is work that
must occupy all of your time. Even more than all of your
time. To be a real scientist — this is also more than for
your entire lifetime. Sometimes I think that no one can
be both simultaneously. This is especially true for our
times, when both medicine and science have become so
technological, so technology-intensive. But at the same
time I recognize that we do not have enough people who
could combine the two endeavors. This is very impor¬
tant. In my opinion there should be a synthesis. It is here
that I feel I have a duty — to combine the physician and
the scientist into one.”

“How do you distribute your time under regular work
conditions in your California clinic?”

“As the clinic director I spend most of my time making
rounds, checking patients and talking to them. My
patients often have fairly common forms of cancer —
lung cancer, for example. And I care for my patients as
any regular doctor would. I spend some time in manag¬
ing a small research facility which is involved in the
collection of statistical data on the results of the use of
new methods for treating leucosis (leukemia), bone mar¬
row transplants and other data. And finally, a very
important matter in which I am involved — my own
laboratory, where basic research is conducted on the
molecular mechanisms involved in the onset of leuke¬
mia.

“I understand that it appears that I am scattering myself,
but I do not agree with this. I focus on these three
directions because a very important goal stands before us
— we want to find an effective treatment for leukemia.
And we feel that the first results will be achieved in a
laboratory.

“What are we moving toward? What is the basic idea of
our research? Not a single child should have to die of
leukemia. We must do everything in our power to make
sure of this.”

“Are there cases of cures in your clinic? Are you able to
transform acute leukemias into chronic leukemias?”

“In 1986 we were able to cure about 70 percent of the
children who developed leukemia. And about 30 percent
of adults. If we make a general calculation it turns out
that we are successful in curing exactly half of the sick.”

“That is a phenomenal result!”

“Unfortunately, most of the population understands
very little about how far we have come in the treatment
of leukemia. But half the sick — this is not adequate.
After all, the other half die. For example, this year
20,000 Americans will die of cancer...”

“In the newspapers it was written that you have a Ph.D.
What problem did you study for your dissertation?”

“My topic was life and death. The unity of life and death
on a philosophic plane. In my biography, published in
the U.S.A., I touch on this subject.”

“Doctor Gale, what do you tell your sick patients when
you give them the diagnosis?”

“I always tell my patients the entire truth and report all
facts to them. I do not know whether this is good or bad
but we are of the philosophy that the individual should
have all of the information. The fact is that the most
difficult decisions about treatment must be made by the
sick person. For this he needs reliable information. This
does not always work in the best way, but we simply do
not have any other solution.”

“Were you involved in radiation sickness before you
came to Moscow and began treating patients who had
suffered at the time of the accident at the Chernobyl
Nuclear Power Plant?”

“Yes, we had some experience. In some cases leukemias
must be treated with a bone marrow transplant. Then we
purposefully subject patients to enormous doses of radi¬
ation, sometimes almost lethal doses. We have a fairly
large amount of experience treating the sick who have
received enormous doses of radiation on the order of
several thousand ber’s (biological equivalent of the
roentgen).”

“Has your prognosis for the treatment of the sick in
Moscow corresponded to actual results?”

“In general, yes, if we speak of general laws and statisti¬
cal prognoses. But in each individual case it is very
difficult to make a correct prediction. In general this is a
very complicated ethical problem and a heavy burden —

JPRS-UPA-88-005
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13

making prognoses. Here I am not talking about treating
the Chernobyl sick but about treating the leukemia
patients in my clinic. Let us say that I know that of 100
patients who need bone marrow transplants 50 percent
will survive and get better. But for those 50 percent who
will die this is little comfort. We curtail their lives
through our treatment. This is why each time a sick
person dies in our clinic, his life shortened by treatment,
I feel a personal responsibility. I must carp' this burden
of responsibility for their deaths but sometimes I have no
choice.

“The simplest decision would be to just not do bone
marrow transplants. But then we will be relinquishing
the right to live of the absolute majority of sick people.”

“Doctor Gale, who of the sick in Moscow do you
remember best?”

“I want to say immediately that I remember each and
every one of them, I remember then as people, as
individuals. But some people left a deeper imprint. I
especially remember three of the sick.

“The first was the doctor who worked at the reactor and
who helped the affected. As a doctor he recognized all of
the danger of the developing situation, he understood
everything, but acted bravely. The second sick person
was the fireman. When I went to Kiev from Moscow for
the first time — do you remember, at the beginning of
June? — I was absent from the clinic for 3 days. When I
returned from Kiev he was very angry and asked me,
‘Where were you? Why did you go away?’ The third was
also a fireman. Maybe he did not understand the danger
he was in, maybe he understood, or maybe he did
everything especially so as not to pay attention to the
threat on his life. His behavior was very touching —
during rounds he always asked me, ‘How are things
going, doctor, how do you feel?’”

Two of these died, one lived...

“What feelings were you governed by when you decided
to come to the Soviet Union?”

“First of all, I am a doctor, and I know about the possible
consequences of such an accident. Thus I considered it
necessary to offer my help. Political differences do not
concern me as a member of the medical profession. Our
first obligation is to save people and to help them.
Moreover, similar accidents can occur not only in the
USSR but in the U.S.A. and other countries as well. And
naturally, I hope that we will be able to expect the same
kind of sympathy and help from the Soviet people.”

“What do you think, is it possible to make an analogy
between Doctor Hammer’s visit to our country in 192 1
and your visit today?”

“In a certain sense, yes. It is true, Hammer at that time
was involved in the problems of fighting typhus, whereas
we are struggling against the nuclear threat. The circum¬
stances are completely different but their essence is the
same. The doctors of different countries help each other.
In this sense nothing has changed. But the situations, of
course, bear no comparison. Just as in 1921 the very idea
of an accident in an atomic reactor was absolutely
unimaginable, now it is impossible for us to imagine a
typhus epidemic on the scale of the one in 1921. Human¬
ity has learned to overcome all obstacles on its path...”

“But in doing this it creates new problems,”

“It will always be like that (Dr. Gale laughs). And today
it is difficult for us to imagine what kinds of problems
will plague mankind in 60 years.”

“During your present trip you brought your children.
Does this mean that their being here is safe?”

“Many people feel that Kiev has been totally abandoned
by its residents or that children have been completely
evacuated. One of the reasons 1 came here with my
family was my desire to emphasize once again that the
situation is totally under control and that the patients
have received the needed help. I had no doubt about the
safety of my visit to Kiev. I would not have brought my
children under any circumstances if there had been even
the minutest potential danger. I think that it is easier for
people to understand such an action than a whole series
of medical pronouncements and complicated generaliza¬
tions.”

“Do you feel that the situation in Kiev is improving?”

“Of course. Radiation levels will continue to decrease.
Some things require special attention. For example, the
problem of protecting the water. But all measures are
being taken to protect Kiev. For example, artesian wells
have been created, alternative sources of water supply
have been determined and I feel that the situation is
being fully controlled. In these questions I depend fully
on my Soviet colleagues. I do not believe that they would
subject their children and themselves to the effects of
radiation, which they would consider unacceptable.”

“Are you satisfied with the information you have
received?”

“From the time of my first trip to the Soviet Union,
particularly to Kiev, I have been surprised how honest
and open we are with our Soviet colleagues. I must
especially emphasize that many of us were deeply
affected by the communication of the Politburo of the
CPSU Central Committee concerning an investigation
on the reasons for the accident at the Chernobyl Nuclear
Power Plant. I feel that the assessment of the accident
was completely truthful. It was probably even more
direct and open than we expected and this gladdens me

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

14

deeply. I hope, and more than that, I am sure that your
analysis of the medical information will be just as
complete and honest as the analysis of the physical
reasons for the accident.”

“Would you like to come to Kiev again?”

“Not only do I want to, I will be in Kiev again. I will
return to your city in October, when the exhibit of works
from Armand Hammer’s collection opens.”

Robert Gale kept his word. It was fall, it was the same
airport, it was an American airplane, but smaller than
the Boeing, and on its tail were the markings, “2 OXV.”
Accompanying Doctor Gale was the popular American
singer and composer John Denver, who sings his ballads
in “country” style. Armand Hammer had entrusted
Doctor Gale to open the exhibit, “Chef d’Oeuvres of
Five Centuries.” In speaking at the opening ceremony,
he said:

“Chernobyl has become a reminder for all of us about
the fact that the world must do away with any possiblity
of the chance of nuclear war once and for all.”

...Later, in the evening of that same day there was a
concert in the Ukraina palace, all proceeds of which went
into the fund to aid Chernobyl. The words of John
Denver about the Piskarevskoye Cemetery in Leningrad
sounded very sincere and emotional — after visiting the
cemetery he wrote a song in which he praised the
strength and bravery of the Soviet people and their love
for their homeland.. .The audience listened with great
liking to the pure voice of this sandy-headed fellow from
Colorado. “I want everyone to know that I respect and
love the Soviet people,” said John Denver. “For me it is
very important to be here in the Soviet Union and to sing
for you, and not just to sing but to share my music with
you. I want everyone to know that I feel a great respect
for the residents of Kiev and the residents of Chernobyl
— I admire their courage, their bravery.” John Denver
was applauded not only by thousands of Kievans but by
Doctor Gale and his wife as well. Then there was a
farewell dinner — somewhat sad, as always when you part
with good friends. And then, when it was already night,
we all went out to the shore of the Dnepr and sang our
American friends our folk song, “Reve ta stogne Dnipr
Shirokiy.” Both Gale and Denver listened attentively
and then Denver pensively asked, “Where’s Cher¬
nobyl?”

We pointed to the north, into the darkness, to where the
Dnepr took its fall waters.

‘‘How People are Tested...”

In listening to the melodic and very human songs of John
Denver I thought about Vladimir Vysotsky. I remem¬
bered a fall day in 1968 in Kiev. The leaves were falling
from the apple trees of the well-known Aleksandr Dovz¬
henko Park on the movie studios bearing his name. I was

strolling near Shchorsovskiy Pavilion, expecting
Vysotsky. I had seen him in the movie, “Vertical,” and I
thought that 1 would recognize him immediately. But
when a short, beardless, puny person with brown hair
and in a leather jacket appeared, looking considerably
younger than the hero of “Vertical,” it was only at the
last moment that I guessed that it was he. I thus guessed
that a guitar was hanging on his back. During those days
the film “Quarantine” was being filmed according to my
film script. The film describes how a group of doctors of
a scientific-research laboratory become infected with the
virus of a dangerous disease. In the film we attempted to
study the characters of people and to fashion their
behavior in an extreme situation. The subject of the film
was to a large degree theoretical, almost phantastic, but
the characters of the doctors were taken from life.
Vysotsky agreed to write a song for our film, and director
S. Tsybulnik, who was not in Kiev during those days,
gave me the task of working on this song.

We exchanged several words and went to the pavilion
where everything was ready for recording. And when
Vysotsky began to sing his song, I suddenly understood
why he was difficult to recognize in real life — the feeling
of monumentality that marked his screen heroes was
created by his well-known voice with its raspiness, and
by his frenzied temperament. The miracle of the trans¬
formation occurred literally right before our eyes as soon
as the first chords of the guitar were heard. I liked the
song very much and we immediately used it in the film.
It was performed by the wonderful actor and singer Yura
Kamornyy, who later died tragically. ..The recording by
Vladimir Vysotsky is preserved on my cassette tape.
Here is that song:

The volleys of the equipment grew silent long ago,
Only the sunlight is above us.

How are people tested
When there is no more war?

Frequently we hear
Now, as before:

“Would you go with him on reconnaissance?

No or yes?”

The armor-piercer will not cry out now
There will be no burial behind the door
And it seems that everything is so calm.

And now there is nowhere to reveal oneself.
Frequently we hear
Now, as before:

“Would you go with him on reconnaissance?

No or yes?”

Peace is only a dream, I know.

Get ready, set and fight.

There is a peaceful advanced detachment.
Misfortune, and danger, and risk.

Frequently we hear
Now, as before:

“Would you go with him on reconnaissance?

No or yes?”

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

15

In the fields the mines have been detonated,

But we are not in a field of flowers.

In searching for the stars

Do not throw the depths from the reckoning.

That’s why we frequently hear,

If a misfortune arises:

“Would you go with him on reconnaissance?

No or yes?”

During the days of the Chernobyl events I often remem-
berd this courageous song and the question posed in it:
“How are people tested if there is no war?”

L. Kovalevskaya: “On 8 May we left a village in Polesskiy
Rayon for Kiev, for Borispolskiy Airport. I sent my
mother and children to Tyumen. I had little money by
then and what I had left I gave out at the airport to our
Pripyat natives. Some I gave a 3-rouble note, others — 2
roubles. Women with children were crying, I felt sorry
for them. I left myself a rouble to get to Kiev. The ticket
from Kiev tp Borispolye costs 80 kopecks. I was all
”dirty“ and my slacks ”stank.“ I was standing at the taxi
stop, telephoning friends — one was not at home, the
other had gone away. One address remained. I thought to
myself — I’ll take a taxi and go there, telling the taxi
driver that my friends will pay for me. And if they are
not there I will write down his coordinates and send him
the fare later. I was standing there. A person came up to
me, stood behind me in line and asked, ”What time is
it?“ You know, the way fellows come up and ask a
question in order to become acquainted. I was standing
there angry, ugly, dirty, unwashed and unkempt...!
looked at his hand to see if he was wearing a watch. He
was not. Then I told him what time it was. I don’t know
why, but everyone always knew that we were from
Chernobyl. People didn’t know much about Pripyat,
everyone said, ”ChernobyI.“ Either by the eyes, or by the
clothes, I don’t know why. But they guessed without fail.
And the fellow behind me in line asked, ‘Tell me, are you
from Chernobyl?’ ‘What, is it noticeable?’ I answered
angrilily. ‘Yes, it is. And where are you going?’ I
answered, ‘I don’t know, I’m afraid it will be useless to go
there,’ And he asked, ‘What, don’t you have somewhere
to spend the night?’ ‘Nowhere.’ He took me by the arm
and said, ‘Let’s go.’ ‘I’m not going anywhere with you,’ I
said. You know, I thought to myself that he is a lout who
will take me to his apartment and so forth.. .1 know about
these things. No. He got in a taxi with me and took me to
the Moskva Hotel. He paid for the taxi and for the hotel.
Then he took me to his workplace where an old woman
was on duty, fed me and took me back. I fixed myself up,
washed, and only then learned his last name — Slavuta,
Aleksandr Sergeyevich. He works in the republic’s soci¬
ety of book lovers.”

A. Perkovskaya: “In early May we began sending children
to pioneer camps. What I did not come up against here!
People knew that the assignments would be to the Artek
and Molodaya Gvardiya. Parents began coming to see
me. They put pressure on me to send their children to the
Artek. Well, I spoke severely to such parents, I won’t

hide it. Frequently I had to take sins upon my soul. The
situation was as follows: We were to gather for camp
children who had completed the second grade and up to
and inclusive of the ninth grade. People came to me and
said, ‘What about 10th graders— aren’t they children?
And where do we put the 10th graders?’ Imagine a
mother coming to me, she is alone, without a husband,
she is on duty and her child is 6 years old. Does he have
to have finished the second grade? What is she going to
do with him? Naturally I wrote a different date of birth
for this child without a guilty conscience. Later, when I
went to the pioneer camps I heard many rebukes. But
excuse me, I had no other recourse.

“In general we made up these lists. Then the Kievans
began calling and asking us to take their children to
camp. And so on. When I began examining the lists I
found all kinds of forgeries in them. I had to announce
on the radio that parents had to come with their pass¬
ports and their Pripyat registrations...

“In August I went to the Artek and Molodaya Gvardiya
— I was taking children there. And can you imagine? I
discovered an almost grown girl from another city. She
had nothing to do with Pripyat. I even discovered a girl
from Poltava Oblast. I have no idea how these children
got into the Artek and Molodaya Gvardiya. But they,
like the others, spent two sessions at the camp...

“When in early May I brought pregnant women to
Belaya Tserkov, a grandee, the third secretary of the
party gorkom, came out and said, ‘We must think in the
government way.’ They met our women in counter¬
plague and counter-gas outfits and carried out dosimet¬
ric readings in the street. And in that same Belaya
Tserkov children were not received until evening
because there was no radiation supervisor there.

“And when I was resting after the hospital in Alusht, my
friend warned me, ‘Don’t mention where you are from.
Tell them you are from Stavropol. It will be better that
way.’ I did not believe her. In addition, it is below my
dignity to hide where I am from. Two young girls from
Tula and Kharkov sat down at my table. They asked,
‘Where are you from?’ ‘From Pripyat.’ They vanished
immediately. Later ‘friends in misery’ were seated next
to me — women from Chernigov.”

A. Esaulov: “In our city at the communications center on
29 April telephone operator Nadya Miskevich fainted as
a result of stress. She had been sitting at the telephone
lines all the time. And the director of the communica¬
tions center, Lyudmila Petrovna Serenko, was also a fine
person. She was the first in the city to organize watches.
There was a case in which a lunatic cut out an electrical
wire at the substation. He said, ‘I have radiation sick¬
ness. Take me out, otherwise I will turn off the power.’
He turned off the power. So Lyudmila Petrovna imme¬
diately shifted to the emergency feed. This is a Woman
with a capital W.

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

16

“And here is another case. The atomic power station’s
deputy director for daily life and social questions, Ivan
Nikolayevich Tsarenko, came to me and said, ‘Help me,
Aleksandr Yuryevich. We must bury Shashenk — the
operator who died at the fourth unit. He has to be put
into a casket and buried, but Varivod from the building
administration will not give me a bus. It is our only one.’
Well, here it is difficult to judge who is right and who is
guilty. There was only one bus and it was needed by the
living to deal with some kinds of vitally important
question.

“We went to Varivod. I said, ‘Listen, why are you
arguing about foolishness? The man must be paid his last
duty. Give me the bus.’ He said to me, ‘I won’t.’ I said,
‘What do you mean, parasite, by not obeying Soviet
authorities?’ And he said, ‘I won’t give it to you anyway.
Cut me up or eat me — I won’t give it up.’

“Well, then I went out on the road and stopped the first
bus that came my way, gave it to Varivod and took his
bus for the funeral...”

Yu. Dobrenko: “After the evacuation of Pripyat about
5,000 people remained — people who had been assigned
various tasks by different organizations. But there were
others who did not agree with the evacuation and
remained in the city it seems illegally. Primarily this was
retirees. Things were difficult for them, it took a long
time to evacuate them from the city. I was evacuating a
retired person on 20 May. He was an old man who had
a decoration, a participant in the Battle of Stalingrad,
How had he survived? He went down to the military,
took a few respirators and even slept with them on. He
did not turn on the light so that no one would notice him
at night. He had dry bread and a supply of water. When
I took him out the water in the city had already been shut
off because it was needed for decontamination. There
was electricity and he watched television.

“Here is how he was found. His son, who had been
evacuated, came to us and said, ‘My father was left in the
city. I did not say anything for a long time but I know
there is no water now and he is still there. Let’s go get
him,’ We came to him but he said, ‘Well, all right, since
there is no water I will go with you.’ He put on his
respirator, grabbed some buckwheat in order to be able
to cook some soup. In the villages there were also such
old men and women who did not want to leave their
homes for anything. We called them ‘partisans.’ It is true
that there were different people among them. There were
some whose children simply had forgotten them. They
did not take them with them. Or the children had easily
agreed — stay here, they said, and protect the house and
belongings.”

Sofiya Fedorovna Gorskaya, director of school number 5
in the city of Pripyat: “Not all the teachers were able to
withstand the ordeals they were subject to. Not all.
Because not every one turned out to be a pedagogue. In
the process of evacuation some left their classes, left their

children. This was very painful for the children. This was
especially true of the upperclassmen and seniors. They
were very hurt that other teachers came. The teachers
who left, leaving their children, explain this by the fact
that they are inexperienced, that they did not know how
to deal with this situation, or what to do. After they
heard on television that things were normal they came
back. That is a big lesson for us in the training of future
teachers, those whom we select from among our young
people and train for 2 years for matriculation in the
pedagogical institute. Among the teachers there were
‘activists’ who spoke most loudly at meetings but who
then disappeared. Yes, there were.”

Valeriy Vukolovich Golubenko, military director of mid¬
dle school number 4 in the city of Pripyat: “When the
evacuation was in progress we did not move the school
journals or anything else. After all, we were leaving for a
short time and hoped to return to the city immediately.
Well, then later when the school year came to an end we
had to write school-leaving certificates for the tenth
graders. We still did not have our journals and we
proposed that they write their own evaluations. We said
to them, ‘You probably remember your own grades.’
When we looked, not a single student had elevated his
grade, and some had even lowered theirs.”

Mariya Kirillovna Golubenko, director of middle school
number 4 in the city of Pripyat:

“After we were already evacuated, here in Poleskiy, I was
named a member of the committee on packages for our
Pripyat gorispolkom. What completely stunned me was
the kindness of our people, which we felt literally phys¬
ically while unsealing packages, sorting gifts and reading
letters. We give some of the things to boarding houses for
the elderly, to those places where Pripyat old people who
are alone now find themselves; some of the things to
homes for mothers and children, and some to the pioneer
camps, in particular clothing for children. Many books
arrived — we gave those to the library for the special
collective efforts of builders and operators of the nuclear
power station. Here in the room next door there are
about 200 packages and still another 300 packages are
lying at the post office in Kiev. We receive very many
letters from children. Leningrad’s children have sent
many packages with books, children’s clothing, dolls,
office supplies, and every package includes a letter and
every letter expresses alarm and concern. Although these
children are just second and third graders and far from
the accident, they understand what kind of grief it
involves. There are many packages from Uzbekistan and
Kazakhstan with gifts of figs, dried fruit, peanuts, home¬
made sugar and tea. Retired people are sending soap,
towels, sheets, and children most often send books, dolls
and games.”

But I ask the reader not to give in too much to good and
tender emotions which perhaps arose under the influ¬
ence of the story of the kind packages and letters, about
the decent and sincere people. We should not weaken.

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

17

Because the Chernobyl events also gave rise to some¬
thing else — the traditional masterpieces of native
dim-wittedness and bureaucratism that was satirized
long ago by Saltykov-Shchedrin.

Let me give one example:

“The Yalta city council of people’s deputies of Crimea
Oblast. 16 October 1986. To the chairman of the
ispolkom of the Pripyat city council of people’s deputies,
comrade V. I. Voloshko.

“In accordance with the directive of the USSR Ministry
of Health No 1 10 of 6 September 1986 the ispolkom of
the Yalta city council of people’s deputies has made a
decision on 26 September 1986, Number 362 (I), con¬
cerning providing an apartment in Crimea Oblast for
citizen N. M. Miroshnichenko for a family of four (he,
his wife, two sons) evacuated from the zone of the
Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. We request that you
send us a certificate concerning the handing over to local
authorities by N. M. Miroshnichenko of three-room, well
outfitted apartment number 68 with a living area of 41.4
square meters in house number 7 on Geroyev Stalin-
grada Street in the city of Pripyat.

“[Signed] Deputy chairman of the gorispolkom, P. G.
Roman.”

Isn’t this sharp? The entire country knows HOW and TO
WHOM the residents of Pripyat (see chapter entitled
“Evacuation”) handed over their well outfitted apart¬
ments. But only in sunny Yalta they think that the
apartment with 41.4 square meters of living space aban¬
doned by N. M. Miroshnichenko on 27 April 1986 will, in
circumvention of the established order, existing resolu¬
tions and elevated radiation levels, be occupied by some
criminals or relatives of the aforementioned citizen.

Truly — “how are people tested?”

The atomic blast above Chernobyl with its blinding light
illuminated good and evil, intelligence and stupidity,
truth and phariseeism, sympathy and schadenfreude,
honesty and lies, disinteredness and greed — all man’s
virtues and vices hidden in the souls of our compatriots
as well as in those of people far from the borders of our
country.

I remember the May issues of the popular American
magazines, U.S. NEWS AND WORLD REPORT and
NEWSWEEK — the ominous purple colors of the cover,
the hammer and sickle, the symbol of the atom and the
black smoke above the entire world. Screaming head¬
lines — “Nightmare in Russia”; “Deadly Emissions
from Chernobyl”; “The Chernobyl Cloud. How the
Kremlin Described it and the Actual Risk”; and “Cher¬
nobyl: New Concerns About Health. Dangerous Famil¬
iarization Tour of Kiev.” And the first apocalyptic-
solemn words of the report: “This was the
unprecedented nightmare of the 20th century...” I admit

that sensational headlines and a hysterical tone are
traditions for the American press, which tries to attract
the reader at any cost. That is so. But even making
allowances for this in these materials it was impossible to
find simple human compassion for those who suffered as
a result of the accident, and behind the ominous medi¬
cal-genetic predictions one did not feel a shadow of
alarm for the lives and health of the children of Pripyat
and Chernobyl. I was especially surprised by the coldly
political tone of an article by Felicity Beringer in the
newspaper THE NEW YORK TIMES of 5 June 1987 —
this woman (woman!), manipulating her pen with the
characteristics of a robot, as if cutting with a scalpel into
a live being, reported from the Artek Pioneer Camp,
where the children of Pripyat were living at the time.
Nothing in her words spoke of the eternal womanly,
maternal compassion — only of a hateful propoganda-
type lack of understanding of all that was told to her by
1 1 and 12 year old children who were stunned by what
had happened and who missed their homes, where they
would never return...

But then in the foreign reports on Kiev radio I became
acquainted with dozens of letters that had arrived during
those days from the United States and Great Britain.
And I thought how much the common people in these
countries as well as here stand above primitive propo-
ganda stereotypes.

In July 1986 the fireman’s section of Chernobylskiy
Rayon, the place where “Grandpa” Khmel and his
comrades worked in April, received an unusual gift from
their comrades in the U.S.A. — a memorial plaque with
a message from the 28th Fireman’s Division of the city
of Schenectady in the name of 1 70,000 members of the
fireman’s associations of the U.S. and Canada. Here it is:

“The fireman. Often he is the first to arrive where the
danger is. That is what happened in Chernobyl on 26
April 1986. We, the firemen of Schenectady, state of New
York, admire the courage of our brothers in Chernobyl
and deeply mourn the losses they have borne. There is a
special brotherhood among the firemen of the world,
people who respond to the call of duty with exceptional
bravery and courage.”

In presenting this message to Soviet representatives in
New York, the vice president of the International Asso¬
ciation of Firemen, James Makgovan of New York, and
Captain Armand Kapulo from the city of Schenectady,
spoke with great respect about our people in the name of
all honest Americans, who they emphasized are in the
majority. They recalled the principle adhered to by
decent people of the entire world — symphathize with
those in misfortune, help them, do everything possible to
alleviate their misery as quickly as possible.

...To the question posed by Vladimir Vysotsky, “How
are people tested if there is no more war?” in 1986 we
could give a simple answer — people are tested accord¬
ing to their attitude toward Chernobyl.

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

18

What a shame that Vladimir Vysotsky was no longer
with us, that his sorrowful and courageous songs about
Chernobyl were not written. About those who went into
the fire. Vysotsky was very needed there, in the Zone.

The Last Warning

Exactly 100 years ago, on 2 June 1887, visiting in
Roslavlskiy Uyezd [lowest administrative division] of
Smolenskaya District about 300 kilometers from Cher¬
nobyl, Vladimir Ivanovich Vernadskiy, who became a
leading Soviet scientist, academician and first president
of the Ukrainian Academy of Sciences, wrote to his wife:

“The observations of Estred, Ampierre and Lents have
laid the foundation for the study of electromagnetism,
which has inexpressibly greatly increased the powers of
man and which in the future promises to completely alter
the structure of his life. All of this arose out of observa¬
tions about the special characteristics of magnetized
metal... I have a question — do other minerals have
similar properties?... and if they do, won’t this open up a
whole series of new powers for us, won’t it give us the
opportunity for new applications, won’t it increase the
power of people tenfold?.. .Isn’t is possible to conjure up
unknown, frightening forces in different embodi¬
ments?...”

This quote is taken from an interesting article by I. I.
Molchalov, “First Warnings About the Threat of
Nuclear Omnicide: Pierre Curie and V. 1. Vernadsky,”
which was published in the third issue of the journal
VOPROSY ISTORII YESTESTVOZNANIYA I TEKH-
NIKI in 1983. Omnicide is a relatively new term meaning
the universal killing of people.

The letter by the young 24-year old graduate of the
physics and mathematics department of Peterburg Uni¬
versity 1 0 years before the discovery of radioactivity by
A. Bequerel, probably contained the first warning in the
history of mankind concerning the approaching new era
which has so painfully touched us in Chernobyl, prom¬
ising complete destruction of mankind (omnicide) in the
case of the military use of nuclear weapons.

All of his life V. I, Vernadsky worried first about the
unclear and then about the clearer and clearer prospects
for the use of this frightening force:

“We, the children of the 19th century, have at each step
become accustomed to the force of steam energy and
electricity; we know how thoroughly they have changed
and continue to change the entire social structure of
human society. And now we have before us in the
phenomenon of radioactivity the source of atomic ener¬
gy, which surpasses a millionfold all those sources of
energy which were pictured in man’s imagination.
Unwillingly with trembling and anticipation we turn our
eyes to the new force that is being revealed before man’s

consciousness. What does it promise us in its coming
development?.. .It is with hope and apprehension that we
look at our new protector and ally” (1910).

“Radium is the source of energy, it works in a powerful
and still little-understood manner on the body, bringing
about incomprehensible but startling changes around us
and within us.. .You experience a strange feeling when
you see these new forms of material extracted from the
depths of the earth through the genius of man. These are
the first seeds of the power of the future. What will
happen when we will be able to obtain it in any quanti¬
ty?” (1911).

And so during those days when radiation supervisors still
walked the streets of Kiev and there was serious discus¬
sion about the question of carrying out complete defoli¬
ation (freeing of leaves) of the famous Kievan chestnuts
and poplars, I came to the house in which Vladimir
Ivanovich Vernadsky worked in 1919-1921. On the build¬
ing housing the Presidium of the UkSSR Academy of
Sciences there is a memorial plaque in memory of this
brilliant man. It seemed as if he were standing at the
window of the president’s office and inquisitively look¬
ing at us from the depths of Kiev’s past when cabbies
clattered past this house with its square beams and when
hardly anyone in the work had heard the word radiation.
And no one at all listened to the prophecy of the scientst.

I came to see the vice president of the UkSSR Academy
of Sciences, the reknowned Soviet botanist and ecologist,
Academician Konstantin Merkuryevich Sytnik. Here is
what he said:

“This is a tragedy, a great human tragedy, which has
directly touched hundreds of thousands of people. A new
ecological factor has come into play. I would not over¬
state this, but it is worse to underestimate it. Of course
we should not permit ourselves, having become involved
in discussing the Chernobyl problem, to forget about the
fact that today the factories of the Ukraine continue to
send up smoke, that the pollution of the Dnepr water
basin with chemicals and metals is continuing. However,
a new factor related to the accident does exist, and this is
the factor of negative attributes.

“People are very concerned about radiation’s existence,
and this is natural. Most of the population has never
been interested in what the outside limits are for nitrous
oxide or anhydrous sulphide. However, today they are
very concerned about the levels of alpha, beta and
gamma rays. This can be explained by the fact that for
years we have talked about the tragedies of Hiroshima
and Nagasaki and have discussed in detail the enormous
danger of radiactivity for man. People gradually accu¬
mulated all of this in their consciousness and their
attitude toward radioactivity is that it is a factor with

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

19

much risk involved. Here a certain psychological phe¬
nomenon, a certain gap between emotion and knowl¬
edge, exists. Everyone knows that industrial emissions
into the environment include carcinogens, but this does
not give rise to special emotion.

“Radioactivity is another matter. People’s attitude is
extreme alarm — people fear for their children and
grandchildren because we have said a great deal about
long-term genetic consequences. This has to be looked at
by both scientists and the means of mass information.

“We must objectively and soberly explain the existing
situation without shrugging off people’s alarming ques¬
tions. We should not fear bringing about a panic because
the reason for panic is a lack of information. Yet we just
repeat one thing, like parrots — the food is clean, it is
checked and so on. But if I myself do not believe this, if
I myself do not drink milk for several months how can I
assure people about the safety of a product? Go to a train
station and look at what people are taking from Moscow.
Bags full of produce. Most of the people do not trust
what we write.

“For example, in their overly-optimistic broadcasts in
June-July physicians kept insisting that it was safe to
swim in the Dnepr in the Kiev area. I felt at that time
that one should not swim there at all. My reason was that
at the shore, in the silt, there was a large accumulation of
radioactive nuclear particles at that time. Nothing would
have happened to Kievans if for one year they abstained
from swimming or did not go into the forest to pick
mushrooms.

“At the same time, of course, we should not complicate
this matter. Why? Because within nature there is an
enormous process of dilution, of dispersion of radioac¬
tive particles, and this saves us. Recently how often has
mother nature been our savior. I am speaking about the
trees, the land and the waters of the Kiev sea which
absorbed most of the radioactive emissions. How much
we have cursed the Kiev sea, hanging over our city, but
in this situation it has turned out to be a very useful
collector, absorbing in its silt a portion of the radioactive
particles which then settled to the bottom. The sea
turned out to be radiation-intensive, it absorbed a por¬
tion of the particles and we hope that in the final analysis
there will be a diffusion of radioactive particles to
insignificant concentrations.

“The question of water is more familiar to me because I
am the chairman of a workers’ group on monitoring
(tracking — Yu. Shch.) the condition of the water in the
Dnepr basin. The Dnepr is an important element in all of
our concerns, and perhaps even the most important.
After all, the water of the Dnepr basin is utilized by a
population of 35 million in the Ukraine. Immediately
after the accident a number of urgent measures were
taken to protect water sources and I can say that the
population of the Ukraine receives good-quality drink¬
ing water. I say this with complete assurance.

“At the same time we must be ready for any unexpected
occurrences. To this end we together with the Institute of
Cybernetics imeni V. M. Glushkov have created a math¬
ematical model for studying and predicting the condi¬
tion of the water in the Dnepr basin. This model foresees
different, even to the utmost extreme, possible situa¬
tions; an entire complex of special measures has been
developed for each situation. But so far extreme situa¬
tions have not arisen...

“What are the lessons of Chernobyl? Recently we held a
routine scientific conference on the problems of Cher¬
nobyl and its consequences. No fewer than 100 people
gathered, all with figures, graphs and computations.
Physicists, biologists, geneticists. There were interesting
reports, and among them very optimistic ones. And this
was not that forced optimism about which Chingiz
Aytmatov wrote. Remember, in ”Plakha“ [Block]: ‘How
long are we going to make assurances that even our
catastrophes are the best?’ No, within our own midst we
are very honest. Still, a series of objective data still
makes us optimistic. But we have to be able to talk about
this in such a way that people willbelieve us. We have to
find scientists who speak convincingly, with facts and
figures, in order to instill trust in listeners and television
viewers.”

“And of course one of the basic lessons — the moral
lesson. In connection with the accident in Chernobyl
there has been a sharp increase in the bitterness toward
and disappointment in science. After all you also talked
about this at the conference of Ukrainian writers?”

“I did.”

“But the problem is not so much with science itself as
with the moral qualities of some scientists. Very fre¬
quently we have the following situation. There are 2-3
scientists with approximately the same rank and title.
One of them says categorically ”no“ but the other two
say ”yes,“ What should the person making the decision
do? Naturally he picks the answer that appeals to him
most. Unfortunately, even the scientist who says ‘no’
does not always try to defend his point of view, to fight
for the truth, to speak at high-level forums and so forth.
Even he does not want to experience spiritual discomfort
or to conflict with powerful people and departments.

“Probably the most important lesson of Chernobyl con¬
sists of the fact that any, even the smallest moral flaw, in
a scientist, any compromises in conscience must be
severely punished. But we have forgotten that at one
time we did not shake the hand of a dishonorable person.
Now the responsibility of scientists for their own discov¬
eries and for the expert opinion on large structures has
increased a thousandfold. The scientist must undergo
trial by fire for his ideas, his convictions. But do you see
this frequently?”

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

These are the types of conversations that were carried on
in the building illuminated with the name of V. L
Vernadsky, who in 1922 said:

“The scientist is neither a machine nor an army soldier
fulfilling orders without argument and without under¬
standing what these orders lead to and why they are
being carried out. ..For work on atomic energy it is
essential to recognize one’s responsibility for what is
discovered. I would like this moral element to be recog¬
nized in scientific work, in work that would seem to be so
far removed from the spiritual elements of the human
individual, such as work on the atomic question.”

Chernobyl routes brought me to Moscow too, to the
place where 40 years ago, on 25 December 1946, the first
uranium-graphite F-1 atomic reactor began operating in
Europe — “physically first.” At that time it was located
in a suburb of Moscow, Pokrovsko-Streshnevo, with a
thick pine forest. Incidentally, the pines are still there.
Now the Institute of Atomic Energy imeni I. V. Kurcha¬
tov is located there.

I came to see Valeriy Alekseyevich Legasov, academi¬
cian, member of the Presidium of the USSR Academy of
Science, first deputy director and director of an institute
department and recipient of the Lenin and USSR state
prizes. Valeriy Alekseyevich’s main scientific interests
are related to nuclear technology and hydrogen energet¬
ics, plasma chemistry and the synthesis of the combina¬
tion of inert gases. But in 1986 the name of academician
Legasov resounded through the world in connection with
the elimination of the accident at Chernobyl. Valeriy
Alekseyevich came to Pripyat during the first day of the
accident and was made a member of the government
commission.

I became acquainted with Academician Legasov long
before I actually met him. Working on the scientific-
publicistic move, “Introduction,” (movie studio —
Kievnauchfilm), I, sitting in the clipping room, ran the
film of the interview of Valeriy Alekseyevich with the
camera crew several dozen times. The following words
sank into my soul:

“I would like to focus attention on the fact that for many
years this disease — inadequate attention to the new, an
inability to illuminate the new — has become an chronic
disease and it is not so easy to eradicate. It has become
chronic because during the childhood years not much
effort is made to value the new and to distinguish the
new from the old. If you go into any class to listen to how
the lesson is going, regardless of whether it is a human¬
istic or scientific subject, as a rule you will find that
children are simply given explanations — what a good
book it is, what a precise equation, what a good experi¬
ment. But not once will you hear the question, ‘How
would you do it better? What aspects of this experiment
are not good? How is this book unsuccessful?’

20

“But after all it is with the rejection of that which seems
to be good and idealistic that creativity begins, that there
is striving to do something better. Our schools are more
likely to teach us to use what is available and not to reject
that which has been achieved or to create something
new.”

I thought this idea was very important, that it revealed
one of the reasons for many of our misfortunes, includ¬
ing in Chernobyl. Because our schools puts all their
efforts only into educating obedient, well-mannered,
efficient and dependable boys and girls, little appeasers,
without educating in them the spirit of criticism or an
objective approach that considers all pros and cons as
regards natural phenomena and social reality. Standard
thinking is included, whereas criticism (and more often
lack of faith and cynicism) are taught to the young
person in the street and sometimes by their own familiar
books. But often a schoolboy is left alone to come to
terms with all of this.

It was very interesting to talk to Valeiy Aleksandrovich
Legasov about the lessons of the accident at the Cher¬
nobyl Nuclear Power Station:

“It so happens that even before the Chernobyl accident I
was involved in questions of industrial safety and in
particular in the safety of atomic power stations. In
connection with the bombing by Israel of a nuclear
research center in Iraq, scientific and wider circles dis¬
cussed the consequences of a possible attack on the
atomic power plant. This was the theme of our article in
the journal PRIRODA (V.A. Legasov, L. P. Feoktistov,
1. 1. Kuzmin: ’’Nuclear Energy and International Securi-
ty,“ PRIRODA, 1985, No 6). Already at that time, in
examining this question we came to the conclusion that
it is madness to have a war when there is a fairly high
concentration of atomic power stations. Extremely large
regions would be radiation-infested for a long time.

“But for every judicious individual another question
arose: And what if we ruled out atomic energy? What if
instead we set up some kinds of power equivalents in the
form of gas, coal or fuel oil power stations? And so we
began to discuss it, I repeat, before the Chernobyl
accident. Let’s say a bomb hit a nuclear power station.
This is bad. But if it hits not the atomic station but a
power station built instead of the nuclear plant? We saw
that this would be bad too. Explosions, fires and the
formation of poisonous compounds would kill a large
number of people and would make noticeable regions
unuseable, although for a shorter period of time.

“After such assessments you reach the following point of
view — things now have to do not so much with the type
of technology but with its scale and concentration. The
level of concentration of industrial capacities is such
today that the destruction of these structures, whether
accidental or intentional, results in serious consequenc¬
es. In its development mankind has created such a

1^

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

21

density of energy sources and various potentially-danger-
ous components, whether biological, chemical or nucle¬
ar, that their conscious or accidental destruction today
results in great inconveniences.

“Today the duplication of various objects and the con¬
centration of large capacities have become problems. In
its time a limited number of nuclear plants was put into
operation, with dependability achieved by the highest
levels of training of personnel and by the careful adher-
ance to all technological rules. Here, behind the window,
the first native reactor is in operation, and it operates
dependably. But then later, when dependable technical
solutions proved themselves well, they began to be mass
produced while at the same time the capacity of theseob-
jects was increased. But the approach to the small
number of such structures and to the large number with
large capacities must be completely different.

“There was a certain qualitative leap — these structures
proliferated, they became more powerful but the attitude
toward operating them deteriorated.”

“Why did this happen?”

“I think that inertia was very great. The need for
electrical energy is enormous. We had to introduce and
assimilate capacities quickly. And quickly means not
changing the previously-developed drafts. The number
of people involved in the manufacture of equipment and
in its operation grew swiftly. Methods of training and
education already could not keep up with the pace of
development.

“It would have been relatively simple if we could have
identified the enemy in the form of, let us say, the
nuclear reactor or nuclear energy. But this is not so. And
even if we reject this technical method and replace it
with another, that one will not be okay either. It will be
worse. Here is the thing. Because the enemy is not the
technology. The enemy does not lie in the type of
airplane, the type of atomic reactor or the type of energy.
If we look at this as a large-scale problem, the main
enemy is the very method of developing and carrying out
energy or technical processes, which depends on man.
The most important thing is the human factor. Whereas
previously we looked at safety technology as a means of
protecting man from the possible effects of the machine
or from some kinds of harmful factors, today another
situation has arisen.

“TODAY TECHNOLOGY MUST BE PROTECTED
FROM MAN. Really — from man, in the hands of
whom shocking power is concentrated.

“To protect from man in any sense — from the errors of
the builder, from the errors of the designer, from the
errors of the operator who is running the technology.
And this is a completely different philosophy.

“Today what kind of international tendencies are being
seen? The number of accidents — if we take the number
per 1,000 persons or according to other indexes — is
decreasing. But whereas accidents are less frequent, their
scale is increasing.”

“It is like an airplane — previously in a plane crash 14
died, now 300 may die.”

“Exactly right. Here is the first conclusion: Chernobyl
has made it clear that mankind has not hurried to change
its approach to safety, its philosophy of safety. I must say
that this is not just a native backwardness. It is an
international backwardness. Thus we have the Bhopal,
Chernobyl and Basel tragedies.

“It would be impossible, improper and foolish to turn
away from the achievements of man’s genius. To turn
away from the development of atomic energy, the chem¬
ical industry or something else. This is not necessary. But
two things have to be done. First of all, we must properly
understand the effect of serious new machines and types
of technology on the environment and secondly, we must
develop a system of interaction of man and the machine.
This is not a problem just for the individual man
working with this kind of machine but a much more
universal and important problem. After all, this kind of
interaction results in serious catastrophes and troubles
from oversights, foolishness and improper actions. It is
not important who acted improperly — the head of the
station or the operator.

“Today we must seek the optimum system. The opti¬
mum in automation, the optimum in solving all organi¬
zational and technical questions related to such complex
technological systems. While doing this we must create
protective barriers as much as possible for instances in
which man makes a mistake or machines turn out not to
be dependable.

“Here I want to express, for the first time, a perhaps
unusual idea. Up until now we have been discussing the
known. We see in hindsight that at every stage there is
some type of incomplete work or maybe slovenliness.
This is true at all stages — from development to opera¬
tion. These are generally known facts, they are presented
in the decision of the Politburo of the CPSU Central
Committee on the reasons for the accident at the Cher¬
nobyl Nuclear Power Station. I kept thinking: Why does
this always occur?

“And you know, I come to a paradoxical conclusion — I
do not know whether my colleagues will agree with me or
whether they will throw stones at me but I conclude that
it is because we have been greatly carried away by
technology. Pragmatically. With bare technology. This
encompasses many questions and not only safety. Let us
think about it. Why is it that at a time when we were
much poorer and when the situation was much more
complex, we were able, in a historically insignificant
period of time — in the 1930’s, 1940’s and 1950’s — to

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

22

amaze the entire world with the pace of development of
new types of equipment and to be well-known for
quality? After all, the TU-104 was a quality airplane
when it appeared. The atomic station created by Igor
Vasilyevich Kurchatov and his companions-in-arms —
this was a pioneering and good decision.

“What happened and why?

“The first attempt was to explain it with some kinds of
subjective organizational factors. But this is not very
serious. We are a powerful people with enormous poten¬
tial. Every director and every organizational system has
at one point or another utilized successful solutions and
less successful solutions, but they could not affect us so
extensively.

“And I reached the following paradoxical conclusion:
That technology of which our people is proud, which
finished with the flight of Gagarin, was developed by
people who stood on the shoulders of Tolstoy and
Dostoeyvsky...”

“That is an amazing conclusion coming from the mouth
of a technical specialist.”

“But I think that this is so. People developing technology
at that time were raised with great humanistic ideas.
With outstanding literature. With a high level of art.
With excellent and correct moral values. And with the
bright political idea of building a new society, with the
idea that this society is the most progressive. This high
moral feeling existed in everything — in relations with
each other, and in attitudes towards mankind, toward
technology and toward their obligations. All of this was
included in the education of those people. For them
technology was simply a means of expressing the moral
qualities within them.

“They expressed their morality in technology. Their
attitude toward the technology they developed and put
into operation was the very same attitude that was taught
to them by Pushkin, Tolstoy and Chekhov and that
governed the rest of their lives.

“But in subsequent generations which took over many
engineers stood on the shoulders of ”technocrats“ and
saw only the technical aspects of the matter. But if
someone is educated only on technical ideas he can only
reproduce technology and improve it, but he cannot
create anything qualitatively new or responsible.

“I feel that the common key to all that has occurred is
that for a long time we have ignored the role of the moral
beginning — the role of our history, of our culture — and
this is, after all, part of the same chain. All of this has
resulted in the fact that some of the people could act with
inadequate responsibility at their posts. But even one
individual working badly creates a weak link and the
chain breaks.

“By the way, if we listen to those directly at fault in the
accident, in general their goals were the most well-
intentioned. To fulfill their assignment, to carry out their
task.”

“Valeriy Alekseyevich, did they understand at all what
they were doing?”

“They thought they were doing everything correctly and
well. And so they violated rules in the name of doing
things better. I think that is the way it was.”

“But nevertheless did they understand that they were
violating all of the rules for operating the reactor?”

“They could not but have understood this. Could not.
Because they violated basic laws. But someone felt this
was safe, someone felt that it would be superior to do
things this way than in the way the instructions stated
because you see the goal was a worthy one — to get it
together and complete their assignment during one night
at any cost. At any cost.

“It is true, this does not apply to those who with extreme
irresponsibility allowed the testing and confirmed the
program for carrying it out. The purpose of the experi¬
ment was as follows. In case the delivery of steam to the
turbo unit is interrupted — this is an emergency situa¬
tion — diesel generators are supposed to kick in at the
power stations. They achieve the necessary parameters
for supplying electrical energy to the unit not immedi¬
ately, but within a dozen seconds. During this time the
generation of electrical energy must be provided by the
turbine which has lost its steam but which is still turning
by inertia. It was necessary to find out whether the
turbine would continue operating until the diesel gener¬
ator reached the necessary parameters. The program for
this test was extremely carelessly set up; it was not
coordinated with the station’s physicists, or with the
reactor’s builders, or with the designers or with the
respresentatives of Gosatomenergonadzor [State Atomic
Energy Surveillance Association]. Nevertheless, it was
confirmed by the senior engineer but then was not
controlled personally by him and was altered and vio¬
lated during the test process.

“The low technical level, the low level of responsibility
of these people — this was not a cause but an effect. It
was a consequence of their low moral level.

“Usually things are understood in this way: Aha, an
immoral person is one who allows himself to take bribes,
for example. But this is an extreme case. But is a person
moral if he does not want to improve his blueprint, if he
does not want to sit up at night, worry, does not want to
seek a better solution? A person who says, ‘Why make an
effort if I can make a decision that appears to be normal
professionally although it is not an optimum or the best?’
And thus begins the process of dissemination of techni¬
cal backwardness. We will not be able to deal with

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

23

anything if we do not reestablish a moral attitude toward
the work we are carrying out, no matter what type of
work it is — medical, or chemical, or reactor work, or
biological.”

“But how do we reestablish it, this moral attitude?”

After sighing and a long pause:

“Well, here I cannot be a prophet.”

“Still, Valeriy Alekseyevich. Imagine that you are the
minister of education or a man deciding the fate of
schoolchildren. What would you do?”

“In part I have already talked about this. We must
reestablish a feeling of responsibility, a critical attitude,
a sense of the new. There was a period of time during
which external circumstances interfered with this. But
today we have a favorable period for this. Please —
nothing is interfering with the reestablishment of the
very best native or national, in our multi-national coun¬
try, traditions. No one is interfering with that. But how
should this be done? Should we increase or decrease the
proportion of particular subjects? I do not know. But I
am sure that interesting people must be brought to the
schools. After all Russia has always been strong in that
the teacher has usually been looked upon as an ideal by
his students in terms of moral attitudes.

“And I would also like to talk about the indivisibility of
general and technical culture. These are indivisible
things. If you remove a piece of it that is related to the
history of our homeland or to our literature, if you
weaken attention to something, this will without fail
boomerang to the degree that culture is indivisible. In
the same way, everything cannot be given to literature
and art while technology is forgotten. Then we would be
a helpless society. A natural problem arises — the
problem of harmony.”

“Let’s return to Chernobyl. How did you live through
this event, both as a person and as a specialist? Didn’t
you have a guilt complex, not of personal guilt, but a
physicist’s guilt for what had occurred?”

“I would say this. I had a feeling of anger. And vexation
that here, in this institute, where specialists issued all the
necessary warnings and proposals, we turned out to be
insufficiently powerful and armed to implement the
necessary point of view. We wrote reports and many of
us made speeches and we felt the danger of the compli¬
cation of technological systems without a change in the
philosophy of their development. We had ready recom¬
mendations. Well, for example, the most important
warning element would have been the development of
diagnostics systems. We fought for these diagnostic
systems, tested some of them, demanded their develop¬
ment and everywhere described the danger of the fact
that we have a shortage of computers to develop the
necessary models and to evaluate the situation, to train

personnel. But it turns out that we demanded too little
and did a poor job of explaining. In this sense there was
a feeling of anger. To be angry at the physicists or even
more so, at physics, is the same as hitting a gutta percha
copy of the director with a stick, as is done in Japan.
Physics is the leading science in technology; it cannot be
guilty of anything. Only people who utilize it poorly can
be guilty.

“And how did I live through it as an individual? On
Saturday, 26 April, I was called from the aktiv, I was
’’dressed up“ and flew there that way. Not one of us
expected an accident of such a scale. We were incorrectly
informed from the plant while we were in Moscow. We
received contradictory information. According to one set
of information everything was going on there — a
nuclear accident, radiation danger and fire, generally all
types of danger were mentioned. Then we received
information that attempts were being made to operate
the reactor. If an attempt is being made to operate the
reactor this means it still exists and there are no special
problems. But when we arrived, it was in the evening on
Saturday, and I saw the red glow of a fire, this was
staggering and immediately indicated the seriousness of
the situation. And later there was no time for emotion —
it was necessary to immediately devise ways to measure
what and how, to do what and so forth. On that evening
we only assessed the radiation situation; moreover, the
most active ‘radiation specialist’ was professor Abagyan
Armen Artavazdovich. Next day, when I arrived at the
reactor ruins in the armored troop carrier, that is when
the feeling of anger of which I spoke to you appeared.
And I also realized that we were not prepared for such a
situation. We had no solutions that were thought out
ahead of time and no technical means. After all what had
occurred? It was always said that the likelihood of a
nuclear accident was extremely small. And the designs of
nuclear power stations actually did bear this out. But still
the minute possibility was not zero. This meant that an
accident like this could have occurred once in 1,000
years. But who was to say that this once could not have
happened during one of our years? During the year 1986?
Nevertheless, the possibility of an accident is not fore¬
seen before this event of little likelihood occurs.

“It is true that after a while when I had to travel to
Vienna to a meeting of IAEA, I became convinced that
all of international science and technology, as practical
experience has shown, has not been very prepared for
this type of accident...

“And I will say this too. Perhaps this sounds paradoxical,
but as soon as the intensity of the alarm abated I began
to feel satisfaction from the work being done. In my
opinion, I am not alone, completely not alone, in these
emotions. Because conditions were created during which
real work was taking place — without papers, without
red tape, without submitting something for someone’s
approval. A colossal responsibility was put on the gov¬
ernment commission, especially during the first days. It
was only after the situation was much calmer, later, that

JPRS-UPA-88-005
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24

all kinds of decisions had to be submitted for approval.
But at that time it was thus: Everyone helped us, every¬
thing was available to us, but all of the responsibility for
decision-making was placed on the shoulders of people
who had come there, and especially on the shoulders of
B. Ye. Shcherbin. And this turned out to be very helpful.
The situation was a dramatic one, but under conditions
of independence accompanied by responsibility we were
successful, through the organized efforts of the majority
of people, in limiting the number of injured and in
localizing the accident fairly rapidly.

“Scientific decisions also had to be made there. The first
of these involved localizing the accident. We did not
have a behavior algorithm for such situations. And the
only field of action was the air, at a height of no lower
than 200 meters above the reactor. What should we do?
The first thing we established was that the reactor was
inoperable. In these gamma fields neutron detectors did
not operate; all neutron channels were inoperable. This
meant that according to the ratio of short-life isotopes
and to the activeness of their formation it was necessary
to establish that there was no new production of rapidly-
decomposing isotopes. Scientists were convinced that
there were no new emissions. The reactor was not
operating. But the graphite was burning, which meant
that air was being sucked in from below and some
cooling was occurring. This meant that it was possible to
stabilize the process naturally, to do nothing and await
the natural cooling of the reactor. It is true that the wait
is a long one. Why is this good? This is good because the
danger of the passage to the bottom of the Zone, the
danger of the melting of the bottom and the pollution of
ground waters would have been eliminated naturally.
And then there would not have been any problems.

“But then in the atmosphere the activity of the reactor in
terms of aerosol products of burning and increased
temperature would be considerably greater, and the scale
and intensity of the pollution would be very extensive.
Covering the remains of the reactor from above meant
decreasing the danger of air pollution but an impairment
of temperature reduction, i.e. the creation of the danger
of a warm-up and the movement of the fuel mass in the
a downward direction. A decision had to be made. Then
it was decided to do the following — to cover the reactor
from above with materials that would filter but at the
same time wouldstabilize the temperature. This was the
reason for the low-melting metal (while it is melting the
temperature does not increase), which protects from
radiation, and for carbonates, which absorb the reactor’s
heat for their own breakdown and which release carbon
dioxide during breakdown, therebyhelping to stop the
burning of the graphite.

“A problem unprecedented in the world was being
decided.

“Traditional equipment usually was not suitable either
because the site of the readings was inaccessible or
because of the temperature or radiation fields. In a short

period of time many specialists and organizations had to
invent new methods and new technical means for mea¬
surement, for securing the active particles at the site so
that they would not be borne away by the wind, for
building and for decontamination. A great deal was
done, and as we can already see, with the achievement of
the goal. Western experts would later call these methods
innovative and effective. It is just a bitter regret that all
of this was developed rapidly not before but after the
fact. During the first days it was necessary to work
intuitively.

“The last thing I want to say has to do with young people.
Of course I had occasion to meet with different situa¬
tions, sometimes not very agreeable. But among them
were others that gave rise only to admiration. Things
have already been written about the heroism of the
firemen. Some, reading this, fussed that the firemen were
at the control point too long and in vain and were
overexposed to no purpose. But this was true heroism,
and moreover justified, because in the machine hall
there was both hydrogen and oil... The firemen did not
allow the fire to develop, and it could have destroyed the
neighboring unit. The first step toward localizing the
accident was a correct one.

“And how the military pilots worked! That was truly an
accomplishment. They worked irreproachably and pro¬
fessionally. There were very many young fellows in the
chemical divisions. Reconnaissance was their responsi¬
bility. They worked completely fearlessly and precisely.

“You know, everything proceeded harmoniously there. I
cannot say that the young people there worked more
than others, but the fact that the young people behaved
with dignity is a fact. The physicists — both from
Moscow and Kiev — got right into the thick of it. I would
say that the young people who worked there exhibited
high human and professional qualities.”

Vladimir Stepanovich Gubarev, writer, journalist, recipi¬
ent of the USSR State Prize, and author of the play,
^^Sarcophagus:”

“Everything that happened in Chernobyl and around it
is very bitter to me. I feel that in the history of our
country this is the third major event.

“The first was the Tartar-Mongol yoke. We shielded
Europe from the hordes and barbarians. The second was
fascism. We saved Europe from fascism. And now we are
securing man’s future at a very costly price.

“The tragedy of Chernobyl, and herein lies its special
quality, has to do with the fact that we have met with a
manifestation of atomic energy precisely in the form of
the so-called ‘peaceful atom.’ There will be no more such
catastrophes. This I can say with complete assurance.
The future of civilization is impossible without atomic
energy. But Chernobyl exists. For this reason, when we
are building this future we must take the lessons of

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

25

Chernobyl into account. Before Chernobyl we
approached this very easily. For this reason we are laying
the path toward a civilized future at a very high cost.

“I would be a very primitive person if I described
documental events in artistic form. Naturally a great
deal of that which was the basis for the play was born in
Chernobyl, where I worked as a PRAVDA reporter. But
I can say quite clearly that I had no specific person in
mind. I tried to create typical figures.”

From the play, “Sarcophagus,” (magazine ZNAMYA,
No 9, 1986):

^'‘Sergeyev: For a long time no one there realized what
had happened, and this is why, just in case, they did not
report it to Moscow. They were waiting for something...

Bessmertnyy: It seems to me that it was a very serious
accident. On the radio they aren’t saying anything for
some reason.

Sergeyev: So it was an explosion after all?

Ptitsyna: Of course. It’s just that for some people it was
just something they did not need, and they are trying to
prove that the reactor fell apart with the accident. A fire.
Simply a fire.“

V. Gubarev:

“When I started writing ‘Sarcophagus’ I had a real desire
to consider these events from a philosophical point of
view. I wanted to show that we are living at a totally
different time than we ourselves imagine. That we are
living in the atomic space age, that it has its own laws, its
own philosophy, and its own responsibility on the part of
people with regard to events and their consequences.”

From the play, “Sarcophagus:”

Bessmertnyy: But which, excuse me for the n on-literary
term, son-of-a-bitch turned off the emergency system?! I
wanted to say that this is — murder. Not suicide, but
murder!...

Physicist: ...The most important thing for us is to find
out who did away with the emergency system.

Bessmertnyy: Who did away with it? Who did away with
it? The system did away with the emergency system. The
system of irresponsibility.

Operator: But we are all in a rush, in a hurry; we
complete our responsibilities 3 months early, 2 days
early, and he requested the measuring devices four times.
No one hurried up there. But we, on the other hand,
fulfill the requests of the authorities.. .Why this? When
they are asked — silence, when we are asked — an
immediate hurrah and we forge ahead.. .Everything for
the sake of reports and prizes... Who needs this kind of
acceleration? It is the same thing as cars running around

the city at a speed of 100 kilometers an hour — let them
run over everyone as long as they can go faster., .We
promised to bring it up to full capacity immediately after
the holidays. Two days early. Everyone is taking on
added responsibilities., .And what are we — sluggards?

Physicist: This is why the emergency protection was done
away with.“

V. Gubarev:

“ ‘Sarcophagus’ contains three main ideas. The first is
this. If a person acts against his conviction, against his
point of view, if he moves away from responsibility, then
this person is living in a sarcophagus.

“The second idea is this. If people — each individual
and society as a whole — do not draw conclusions from
tragedies then they are living in a sarcophagus.

“And the third idea is this. In the play there is constant
repetition, like a refrain, of words from the instructions
on civil defense as a model for atomic warfare. I wanted
to say that if mankind does not take the lessons of the
tragedy into consideration, it will be in a sacrophagus,

“This play was written in 1 week. It was in July — from
19 to 26 July. When I began writing it I could not sleep,
I could not talk, I slept 3 hours a day. You see, I could
not do otherwise. You see, now I judge all people, no
matter where they live, no matter what they are involved
in, no matter what posts they occupy, by their attitude
toward Chernobyl. If the person is indifferent, if this
tragedy did not touch him, this kind of person, to my
thinking, is lost. Because there are such national trage¬
dies, and this is a national tragedy, in which each person
must express his attitude toward the events. I want to
look into the eyes of those people who say that a play is
not needed, that it is premature. Because if we do not
sound the alarm, do not scream, do not warn, then there
will be no one to look at our plays and our literary works,
to read them.”

From the play, “Sarcophagus:”

"’"Physicist: The main thing in this tragedy is its lessons.
We do not have the right not to learn them. ..There has
never yet been such an experience in the history of man.
The explosion of a reactor and its consequences. It may
be that this will be the only case. More likely it is the
first. It should be the last. To do this we must study all
aspects — scientific, technical, psychological.”

V. Gubayev:

“And most importantly, these lessons should not bypass
our youth. After all, those who were born after 1961, after
the flight of Yuriy Gagarin, they truly do believe that
they were born in the atomic age. They are used to the
start-up of rockets. But they must understand one thing
— since they live in such an era the level of their

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

26

knowledge and education must be considerably higher
than that of their fathers. Because they will be working
with generally new technology. And tomorrow they will
be developing it. Sometimes they see this as their due, as
some sort of given. Just like the car in the street. Or like
the television. But this is complicated technology. And it
is very dangerous. It demands from man a new level of
conceptualization and knowledge, and most importantly
— a new level in man’s attitude toward it.”

Robert Gale:

“There are many lessons in Chernobyl. One of them is
the necessity to learn to exist with nuclear energy. We
have no other choice. We are living in a nuclear age and
must get on well with it. In the U.S.A. we receive almost
1 7 percent of our electrical energy from atomic power
plants. In some countries of Western Europe this figure
reaches 60 or 65 percent. By 1 990 there will be about 500
nuclear reactors on earth. In other words, the question is
not whether to enter or not to enter the nuclear age. We
are already in it. For this reason a high level of respon¬
sibility, precision and care in the use of atomic energy
are necessary. If we analyze the reasons for all accidents
that have taken place in the U.S.A. and the USSR we will
see that they occurred not as a result of atomic energy
itself but due to human error.

“Another lesson to be drawn is that accidents similar to
the one at Chernobyl touch not only the country in which
it occurred but a number of neighboring countries as
well. For this reason aid during such an accident should
be carried out not just on a national, but also on an
international level. We must understand that we depend
on each other, especially since atomic energy and nuclear
weapons are proliferating.

“Finally, the last and probably most important lesson. In
comparison with the conscious use of atomic weapons
Chernobyl could be categorized as an insignificant inci¬
dent. But if this relatively small accident cost valuable
human lives, the serious joint efforts of doctors and 2
billion rubles, then what can we say about the military
use of nuclear weapons? We doctors will have no power
to help man.

“This should never be forgotten.

“Chernobyl is the last warning for mankind.”

On a cold November morning when a wet snow was
falling on the clay ground I went to Mitino Cemetery in
suburban Moscow. Not far from the entrance, to the left
of the main walkway, there were neat rows of identical
graves. White marble headstones. The dates of birth
were different, but the dates of death were almost all
May 1986.

The heroes of Chernobyl. The victims of Chernobyl. It is
possible that among them were also the guilty of Cher¬
nobyl. Death has made them all equal, giving us the
living the right to have only one feeling — immeasure-
able grief about the waste of these young human lives.

I paid my respects to their remains (in doing this I had to
show the police guard my writer’s identification, as if in
my action there was something suspicious) and left with
heavy thoughts about the time that we have lived
through since Chernobyl. With its merciless x-rays the
accident immediately illuminated our national and state
mechanism. On the severe screen of Chernobyl our
enormous internal power and reserves (after all, we can
solve any problem if we set our mind to it!) as well as our
serious chronic disease, which we cannot stash away into
a placid formula of past years such as “individual
atypical shortcomings,” were revealed more clearly than
ever before.

Doctor Gale was right! Chernobyl crashed out at us as a
last warning — to mankind, to the country and to each
one of us, young or old, whether we are in a position of
leadership or a subordinate, whether we are scientist or
worker.

To everyone.

The last warning.

I do not want to comment upon anyone else, I do not
want to prove, elucidate, convince, scream or warn,
because others are screaming and warning, the different
people who do not know each other — Russians, Ukrai¬
nians, Belorussians, Georgians, Poles, Americans; and
the golden-haired delicate Aneliya Perkovskaya, who,
having sent the children of Pripyat to the pioneer camps,
on 1 1 May collapsed unconscious and was sent to the
hospital in serious condition; and Leonid Petrovich
Telyatnikov with whom I had the opportunity to talk in
a Kiev hospital and who at that time was already feeling
better and whose head was covered with attractive, short
dark auburn hair, but he admitted that he still slept
poorly at night and the he is pursued by visions of the
fire; and the “United States 1986 Man of the Year” —
the brilliant doctor, Robert Gale, who has touched our
lives and our misfortune; and the future cardiologist
Maksim Drach, who matured many years in May 1986;
and academician Valeriy Alekseyevich Legasov, who
uttered such bitter and merciless words about the moral
reasons for all our misfortunes.

They all said everything there is to say and their words
need no extensive commentary.

And if their voices, their truths, will not be heard, if
everyone remains as of old, if we study “a little, some¬
how,” if we continue to work as we have worked, with
our sleeves down, doing hack work, if loyal, cynical and
illiterate persons anxious to please and not intelligent,

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

27

decent people with their independent views and convic¬
tions make careers in our society, if only unquestioning
subordination to orders and not a creative juxtaposition
of different, freely-expressed opinions are the highest
valor at different hierarchical steps of the government, as
before — then this will mean that we have not learned
anything and that the lessons of Chernobyl have been in
vain.

And then new Chernobyls will follow, new “Admiral
Nakhimovs,” new bitter shocks in our lives.

The warning of Chernobyl. It happened that I watched
the television movie, “Warning,” shown in February
1987 on TsT [color television], in one of the Kiev
hospitals together with those who had worked in the
Zone and were now under observation. All of the depart¬
ments gathered at the television set, and although these
were different people who did not know each other, on
that evening the television screen and the difficult mem¬
ories of what they had lived through united them all. To
my mind came memories of childhood — in a cold
movie theater in 1942 in Saratov a hungry and tired
people watched the documentary film, “The Destruction
of the German Fascist Troops Near Moscow.” I watched
with pain and hope, sorrow and faith.

The times have changed, the historical circumstances
have changed and people have changed — only the
expression on faces has remained the same — the same
pain and hope. Sitting next to me were young fellows in
hospital gowns — operators of Ukrainian television
Yuriy Kolyada, Sergey Losev and Mikhail Lebedev,
producer Igor Kobrin and commentator Gennadiy
Dusheyko. They were intensively scrutinizing the close-
ups of the chronicle of Chernobyl events. They know
better than most at what price these close-ups were
made. Yura Kolyada was the first television operator in
the world to photograph the destruction of the reactor in
May 1986. Each step nearer to the reactor “cost” dozens
of x-rays in those days. The people around me knew the
price of Chernobyl. In UkSSR Gosteleradio [State Radio
and Television Association] alone, over fifty workers —
television operators, radio journalists, commentators,
sound technicians and drivers — had to undergo medical
tests, and some had to go to sanatoriums for treatment.
One of the leading and most fearless operators of the
Ukrainian television, 49-year old Valentin Yurchenko,
died suddenly in the fall of 1986. And although the cause
of death (heart attack) outwardly was not related to
Chernobyl radiation, who can reject the role of stress and
the nervous overload borne by this courageous man
during the hot summer days of 1986? This was the price
at which the truth about Chernobyl was sought, the truth
which in and of itself has become a serious warning to all
of us.

Chernobyl began a special accounting of time for man¬
kind.

Chernobyl’s warning as a fully realistic image of what
mankind can expect in case of a nuclear accident must be
heard not only by professional politicians of the entire
world and by the military with their fingers on missile
buttons but also by every individual without exception
regardless of age and the social situation.

“The avoidance of nuclear omnicide is the most urgent
task of mankind in our day. However, for the great
majority of people all of this is insufficiently clear. In
other words, many of those who say they realize the
danger actually do not believe in its reality.” (Kvasil, B.,
Fuks, G., Rzhiman, Yy., Somervil, Dzh., Gayko, V.
“The Scientists Talk: Nuclear Omnicide — Threat to All
Living Things,” in book: “Who and How Peace Can
Prevail,” Prague, Mir i Sotsializm, 1981).

I would like to believe that after Chernobyl mankind will
understand more clearly what can happen to it if we
begin an exchange of nuclear strikes.

...In empty Pripyat we entered the central point for city
security. The police officer on duty was sitting at the
signal control panel. In the next room the patrol director
was chewing out a sergeant for something. Bundles of
keys were hanging on a plywood board before the guard.
There were street names and a yellow bunch of front¬
door keys to houses on the board. By the number of keys
it was possible to understand where there were more
houses and where fewer.

I would not like to see, at the Martian earth security
station (militia or police, it does not matter), bunches of
keys belonging to countries that have fallen and been
abandoned forever. I do not want to see the glitter of a
key from my homeland, the Ukraine, somewhere in the
general bundle of keys belonging to Europe.

In my garage I have hanging as a symbol of that wild
world which we entered last year the white overalls given
to me in Chernobyl. Really I should probably throw
them out since I walked around in them in the Zone, but
I cannot — it is valuable as a memory and ominous as a
warning. And in the evenings when I come home and
drive into my garage, lights on, the blinding white
apparition appears before me — an apparition that now
wanders through Chernobyl fields and Kiev apart¬
ments...

Enough about this!

This is why I want to finish my story with one idyllic
memory. After everything that I had seen in the Zone
and around it, after the deathly silence of the abandoned
villages (I do not know why, but I was especially touched
by the village cemeteries, these “shadows of forgotten
ancestors,” where the living will no longer be coming),
after the hospital wards and the looks of those lying
under the medicine droppers, after the jumping of the
arrows of the dosimeters, after the danger hidden in the

JPRS-UPA-88-005
1 February 1988

28

grass, water and trees, I left Kiev for 2 days in May. I
sped to the east on the empty Kiev-Kharkov highway
and stopped only at check points in order to undergo
dosimetric control.

I was driving to Mirgorod to see my daughter and
granddaughter. The very same Mirgorod about which
Nikolay Vasilyevich Gogol had written:

“Mirgorod is a wonderful city! It has all types of struc¬
tures! The roofs are straw, or bog-rush or even wooden;
to the right is a street, to the left is a street, everywhere
there is magnificent wattle fencing; the hop plant weaves
upon this fencing, pots are hung on it, from behind it
sunflowers show their sunlike heads, poppies redden,
and fat melons can be glimpsed fleetingly... Abundance!”

How long ago that was! From what kind of naive and
serene time did these words come! But in May 1986 the
city of Mirgorod was also magnificent. It was magnifi¬
cent in that it had no radiation, or maybe the radiation
there was just slightly elevated. And no one here recom¬
mended that windows be closed.

It was a May dusk, when the air in Mirgorod is filled with
the lazy aromas of the land that has grown languid in the
course of the day. I went to the bank of the small Khorol
River, lay down in the grass and closed my eyes. Nearby
I heard the love trills of frogs, felt the freshness of the
grass and the nearness of the water. On the other bank

cows were mooing, waiting for the time when they could
give their hot milk to the tin pails. And suddently I
understood what happiness is.

It is grass on which you can lie down without fearing
radiation. It is a warm river in which you can swim. It is
cows whose milk you can drink freely. It is the provincial
town living a measured life, and the sanatorium with its
tree-lined paths along which the vacationers stroll, buy
tickets for the summer movie theater and make friends
— this is happiness. But not everyope understands this.

I felt that I was an astronaut who had returned to earth
from a long and dangerous journey into the anti-world.

At that moment one of my friends called me and handed
me some kind of plant that she had pulled out by the
roots. Nothing special — coarse, dark-green leaves and a
thick stalk as if colored with violet inks. This plant was
called the “Chernobyl.” Bitter was its aftertaste.

December 1986-January 1987

(End of the first book.)

COPYRIGHT: Izdatelstvo TsK KPSS “Pravda”. “Yu-
nost”, 1987.

8228

END